Take Me There
by Sanqhian
Summary: It wasn't supposed to go like that... slash
1. Praying for Daylight

**Title: **Take me There

**Caution: **Character death, angst, language, and slash.

**Note: **All lyrics property of Rascal Flatts.

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**Chapter One: Praying For Daylight**

_There's a place in your heart nobody's been, Take me there, Things nobody knows not even your friends, Take me there, Tell me about your mama, your daddy, your hometown, Show me around, I want to see it all, Don't leave anything out. I wanna know everything about you then, And I want to go down every road you've been, Where your hopes and dreams and wishes live, Where you keep the rest of your life hid, Take me there…_

Greg looked up at the night sky, the stars looking back down at him. He liked getting away from the bright lights of Las Vegas every once in a while. The outskirts of the city were nice. The large expanse of the starlight sky made the massive city seem much smaller and somehow less daunting. The only downfall was that it made him feel even smaller and he was already a tiny part of a huge machine that worked tirelessly every day and every night across the globe. He closed his eyes as the cool night breeze gently caressed his skin. He inhaled, breathing deeply the scent of the cactus flowers and the recent rainfall. That was another reason he liked the outskirts of town. Breathing in the aroma of nature was always more appealing than the smell of car fumes and the mixture of scents from the millions of restaurants that always mingled on the breeze making him want to gag. He never did care for the smell of Chinese cuisine mixed with some Greek concoction. It churned his stomach. He smiled at that thought; food churning his stomach. In his line of work he saw some the craziest and cruelest thing; blood all over the place, bodies missing parts, finding parts without a body. He took it all in stride just so that he could do what he loved; science.

He had always been somewhat of a genius and science had always been his favorite field of study. He remembered how excited he was the day he got the job in the crime lab. That had been a pivotal point in his life. That had been one of the greatest days of his life. He remembered those carefree days of working with chemicals while listening to music and playing games with the crime scene investigators. He didn't always jump on sharing with the others that those first few months he was afraid of what they thought of him, but slowly he saw that his worries were all for nothing. Sure the lab leader, Gilbert Grissom, always made him feel nervous, that was just part of his job. However, Warrick and Nick turned out to be more like brothers. Catherine amused him while trying to remain superior. And Sarah, he never knew what to expect from her day after day. The lab had been his home for years and he loved the work. But deep down inside he knew that he'd been growing more and more bored with each passing day. A person could only test so many unknown substances before the thrill of the hunt go to be tiring. He wanted to jazz things up, try a new approach at life but make sure that science remained a part of day to day experience.

This is how he ended up transferring to the field.

A lot had changed after that. He was no longer the fun and quirky lab technician. They no longer came to him for answers; instead he went to them for the answers as he tried to find his way around his first few crime scenes. Collecting the evidence gave him a whole new experience, a new prospective of what he'd been helping with. And he had yet to admit to anyone that it was weird seeing someone new in what he still considered to be his lab. But the change was what he needed. Grissom still scared him sometimes, there was no avoiding that. He figured that was just how the lab leader was and from the things that Nick and Warrick had said to him he knew it to be right. There were so many changes in his life, more than he had been expecting. He loved getting to spend time out in the field with the guys and getting to know everyone better. He didn't much care for looking at dead bodies so he always turned them into something else; a puzzle with scattered pieces, a search-and-find puzzle, a game. He knew that if he told anyone any of those things that they would look at him weird so he always kept that information to himself.

Then there were the changes that he hadn't been expecting. The threats and the nightmares stood high on the list. The simple fact of staring hate in the eye night after night as he looked at the dead bodies, knowing all the while that somewhere in the vast world someone had just lost a loved one. And then there was the threat of danger to him. He knew about the danger and still made the change to the field. He shuddered as he thought about those days when Nick had been buried alive. He loathed remembering those days. They were painful. He'd almost lost his best friend. He had tried to do the right thing himself and ended up in the hospital when he'd been beaten. Brass had been shot. Sarah had taken the place of a CSI that had been shot while working and lost her life to the injuries. And even within the confines of the lab no one was safe. He'd been blown-up while working in his lab. That had been a horrible time. And then there was that guy that attacked Grissom, trying to choke him. The job was full of danger but the science and the people kept him from walking away.

What else could he do in his life? After everything he'd seen, everything he'd been witness to.

He sighed, looking up at the great expanse of sky. Maybe feeling small wasn't what he really needed at this point in time. He leaned heavily against the hood of the car thinking that maybe he should have stayed inside the vehicle with the doors locked, the engine running. He looked around, a chill running down his spine. The once beautiful night seemed more threatening, the shadows growing darker. There were no noises; no barking dogs, no cars traveling along the road, no owls or bats flying overhead. He was too far away to hear the sounds of the city. He swallowed nervously as he turned to look at the house to his left. The front door was crisscrossed with yellow police tape and a notice. The windows remained dark, looking out at the world. He wondered what lay behind them, knowing full well that he'd been inside once before. He shifted his weight, gravel grinding under his sneakers. He felt the familiar heft of his gun, another change in his life but it brought him comfort this night. He kept his back to the field knowing that if he turned around he would let the fear overtake him. Anything could be hiding in the field.

Anything.

Finally he heard the sound of tires on the gravel drive. His hand went to the butt of his pistol. Just in case, he told himself. He was all alone and he didn't want to take any chances. But when the car rounded the corner he let out a whooshing breath, unaware until that moment that he'd been holding it in. Brass pulled the sedan alongside the lab's SUV. Greg felt his fears wash away and for a minute he even felt a bit childish. How could he let little things, common things, get under his skin like that? He shook his head to clear it, watching Nick climb out of the passenger side of the sedan. He smiled as his heart skipped a beat.

Nick Stokes. The man that ruled his world.

That had been another of the big changes in his life. He'd always felt this…pull was the best way to describe it, when it came to Nick. There was something about the Texan that Greg couldn't get enough of. He loved when Nick was the one that brought him evidence. He'd tease the investigator in hopes of keeping him around the lab as long as possible. But now he was working in the field. That gave him a chance to see Nick more than he used to. They worked together so often that things began to happen. Now Greg spent a good portion of his days with Nick, sleeping in the bed beside him. As far as he knew nobody at the lab was aware of their relationship. They always arrived at work separately and left separately. They knew that their friends were good people, that they would understand and not judge, but for some reason they both felt a need to keep the relationship quiet.

Grissom was understanding. Ecklie was not.

"About time the two of you got here," Greg said, happy to note that his voice was firm and not in the least shaky.

Nick smiled. Greg had to avert his eyes because that smile always made him feel weak in the knees. He looked at Brass instead, the detective sitting behind the wheel with a cell phone to his ear. Greg motioned toward him, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

"His ex-wife," Nick mouthed. He walked across the gravel drive, stopping beside Greg. He looked at the two-story farm house. "This place sure is creepy at night. I don't understand why they couldn't send the swing shift out here or something. This is the stuff horror movies are made of."

Greg chuckled, happy to know that someone else shared his thoughts. The last thing he'd wanted to do when clocking in hours earlier was end up back at this place. Being here once before had been more than enough for him. He looked at the farmhouse and the images of last week were still fresh in his mind. The way the bodies had been laid out, the threatening message scrawled on the old wooden floor with what turned out to be red paint. But the walls were covered in blood and there were other signs of the slaughter of a family of five throughout the entire house. That night should have been terrifying compared to how they were now. But that night there were cops swarming around the property and the entire team had been working the house. This time it was him and Nick with Brass. There was no telling what horrors awaited them in the house. He didn't understand why the two of them had to be sent here. It wasn't their fault that a piece of evidence had been overlooked. Last time he checked Catherine had been the one working the two bedrooms at the end of the hall. By all rights she should have been out here standing on the gravel drive listening to the distant rumble of thunder.

Greg licked his lips. He jumped when Brass slammed the car door. Nick chuckled and that put him at ease instead of embarrassing him. He loved to listen to Nick laugh and he loved to see him smile, two things that never happened enough in their line of work. As a united force the three of them walked across the dying brown grass toward the house. Not a one of them spoke as they drew closer to what most people were calling the Slaughter House. In the middle of the yard someone had stuck a simple wooden cross into the ground. Flowers and wreaths were scattered on the ground around it. Greg recalled the priest that had shown up that night and how Grissom directed him as far from the house as possible. All the evidence was in the house and back yard, the deep ruts in the mud telling them that a truck had torn off through the field. The front yard played little into the whole picture. Seeing the tributes gave Greg goose bumps. He didn't want to be here.

"Let's make this quick guys," Brass spoke as he unlocked the front door and pulled down the police tape. "This place gives me the willies this late at night."

They followed Brass in and waited while he did a quick sweep of the house. Once a few of the lights were on the place seemed less eerie. The dried blood was brown and looked less like blood and more like old paint. Brass said he would stay downstairs to keep away the riff-raff the lights would draw. Greg followed Nick up the stairs. Neither one of them had a kit with them but they didn't need it. They knew exactly what they were looking for, just not where they would find it. They donned their latex-free gloves. Nick took the bedroom to the left while he took the one on the right. Somewhere within one of them was the clue that they had missed.

He started with the bed, pulling back the blood soaked blanket, then the sheet. He looked under the mattress, under the bed itself. He riffled through the closet and the clothes in the dresser. There were books on a shelf and he pulled out each one to look behind it. He carefully sorted through what remained in the small wicker trash can but found nothing. He was beginning to think they would be stuck here forever when he heard a thud from across the hall. Instantly he thought of Nick. The beat of his heart increasing. Once again his hand strayed to the butt of his pistol, wondering all the while if Brass had heard the sound downstairs. He must have because the next thing Greg heard was the creak of someone on the wooden steps.

"You guys okay up here?" Brass called out.

"Just fine," Nick answered, stepping into the hallway. "Had to move a floorboard but I found what we've been looking for." They converged in the hallway as he held up the bloodied hatchet. Greg shivered.

Brass grimaced. "Good. Let's get the hell out of here. There's a storm rolling in and this is the last place I want to be when it hits."

"I hear ya," Nick said.


	2. Some Say

**Title: **Take me There**

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Chapter Two: Some Say 

_There's the star, the one they said we'd never reach, and just close your eyes, There's the missing moon, there's the milky way, Heaven's straight ahead we'll be there today, rainbows right and left, sunshine everywhere, If it couldn't be baby how did we get there…_

He looked at the bagged evidence. The bloodied hatch made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand-up. He tried not to let his mind wander for he did not want to image how the killer had gone about doing his deed. If he never saw the piece of evidence again he would be a happy camper. At least he would not be the one testing the blood and trying to identify the different types for all the people in the family. That was something he would have done in the past but things were different now. He had to accept the fact that someone else was working in the lab with the DNA testing and substance testing. His job was to deliver the evidence in one piece, uncontaminated. And that's exactly what he was doing. Nick had handed the bag to him as they pulled into the parking lot. He figured that Greg should be the one caught with the murder weapon. The way Nick phrased it made Greg grimace. Caught with the murder weapon. Then his lover quickly explained what he meant; this would look good in Grissom's book. Nick was wiling to let Greg take the credit for finding the weapon. Greg wasn't sure how he felt about it. Was it a moment of charity from the man he loved or was it just a kind gesture that he was reading too much into? Maybe the damn thing creeped out Nick as much as it did him. That could be the truth, the simple and honest truth.

As he walked down the hall of the lab he realized that it was oddly empty. There were other lab technicians that he used to work with and he'd passed the AV tech a while back but otherwise the lab seemed like a morgue. He found that to be a tad odd seeing as the sheriff was pressuring Ecklie to have this case solved and Ecklie was pressuring Grissom. It was only a matter of time before one of them pissed off the other, then the shit would hit the fan. Things were already getting testy. Ecklie was greatly displeased with the progress. But now that the murder weapon was accounted for they might get a new clue, something that could lead them to the person responsible for the mass murder. Greg wondered if it was just one person that managed to pull off the murder or if there had more than one. A whole family…he shuddered. Rounding the corner he just about walked into Grissom, the leader of the lab looking down at a folder in his hands, his glasses perched on his nose.

He looked up at Greg and then noticed the bag of evidence in his hand. There were no emotions on his face but there was a twinkle in his eye. "Is that the murder weapon?"

Greg nodded, adding a verbal "Yes" for emphasis. When Grissom motioned to see the object Greg was a little too happy to pass it along. For some reason just carrying the thing made him feel dirty and sick to his stomach, even with the plastic bag between his skin and the blood. He watched as Grissom gave the hatchet a quick looking over, squinting at the handle. "Looks like there might be a fingerprint on the handle. Make sure that you get a copy of this print before taking it to DNA. I want this area swabbed for epithelia's as well. Looks like our killer forgot to wear gloves after all."

And just like that the conversation was over. Greg watched his boss walk away down the hall. He looked back at the bag that had been slipped back into his grasp. The idea of pulling the hatchet free of its confines and getting a copy of the print made his stomach churn. At this rate he was going to throw-up. He didn't have a weak stomach but there was something about this case that really seemed to be getting to him. Why weren't the others more bothered by the murder of an entire family? Now more than ever he wished that Nick had kept the damned thing so that he could do whatever measly task that needed to be done. Handling this…he let out a deep, controlled sigh. Then took off down the hall with a different destination in mind. So much for dumping the thing at the lab and never having to see it again. He pushed open the door of the Trace Lab to find Nick placing a slide under a microscope. He looked around the room to make sure they were alone before he spoke.

"Uh…Nicky…" His voice wasn't as calm as it had been before. He licked his dry lips.

Nick turned around, smiling. "Greggie, my favorite person. What can I do for you?"

"Take this back," Greg said, holding up the evidence bag. "Take this damned thing back. I..."

"Greg…?" Nick was frowning. He'd forgotten about the slide under the microscope, something in the voice of his lover having caught his attention. He knew Greg well enough to know when something was really bothering the scientist.

"I don't want it anymore. I don't want anything to do with it," Greg remarked, tossing the thing on the nearest surface. "Grissom said there's a print on it and he wants me to get a copy of it to run in AFIS. But that means touching it, handling it and…"

"It's all right, Greg," Nick said quietly, his voice hushed.

Greg looked up at him. He'd been staring at the hatchet, his mind going all the places he hadn't wanted it to. There was no way he was going to sleep now. Even though when his shift ended the sun would be shining and he wouldn't be alone. He swallowed down the lump of fear forming in his throat. "What's okay?" he managed to croak out.

"Being scared," said Nick. "It's okay to be scared, Greg. This case, if it's bothering you so much…Maybe we can have a talk with Catherine, see what she says. You know that Grissom will listen to just about anything she says." He pulled the evidence bag toward him. "I'll get the print and run this down to DNA. No worries, Greggie. At the end of shift, let's meet in the locker room. I'll treat you to breakfast."

"Okay."

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He spent the last two hours of his shift avoiding his boss. He didn't want to risk running into Grissom just to have the older man ask him about the hatchet. Nick might think it was okay to be scared but that didn't ease he's fear. For some reason he felt that he needed to prove himself to the crime lab leader, prove that he could step out of the lab and do his job. Handing over a vital piece of evidence made it seem as though he was lacking confidence in himself. What would Grissom say about that? At least his shift ended without the testing being finished. There was a slight back-up from the day shift. He'd overheard Catherine talking to Nick about it. She'd made some comment about not worrying about it, let Ecklie get mad. His people were the problem. He stood in the shadows watching the conversation wondering how Catherine did it. How did she raise a daughter in this city and do her job without losing her mind? Why was she always so strong when the rest of them would falter? It was like she and Grissom were cut from a different cloth. He knew about Sarah's past, having had a heart to heart with the other investigator one night while working a case. He knew about Warrick's gambling problem and could tell when they walked into a casino that it was hard to ignore the impulses. And he knew all there was to know about Nick's background. His poor lover. Life had been anything but easy for the Texan. The problems with that babysitter, the whole being-stalked issue, and then being buried alive. Not to mention that time he had a gun pointed at him. Catherine and Grissom, they seemed oblivious to what was going on around them.

As much as he hated to seem weak he prayed he never lost sight of the world.

Now he was pushing the door open to the locker room, happy that his shift was finally over. He would have a delicious breakfast with Nick and all would be right with his world. He could push the events of work into the farthest reaches of his mind and enjoy the time he had with the man who'd captured his heart. He mumbled something to Warrick as the other investigator left the room, bidding him farewell. Sitting heavily on one of the benches he waited for Nick. Fifteen minutes passed before Nick pushed the door opened and peeked inside.

"Come on, Greggie, let's go," he said. Like an affectionate puppy he obeyed Nick.

Before he knew he was stepping out in the early morning sun. Nick handed him a pair of sunglasses and he slipped them on. He often forgot to grab his so Nick had made it a habit of plucking them off the kitchen counter every night as they headed out the door. This was the part that Greg hated; two different vehicles. He would have to drive to the pre-arranged diner by himself, his thoughts his only company. He would rather have climbed into the car with Nick and enjoyed the other man's silence. But this was how things were and that's how they were going to stay. He climbed into his car and promptly turned the radio up loud. He didn't want his brain to have a chance to wander. There was no way he was going back to that crime scene.

Nick made it to the diner first but he was waiting outside for Greg. They went inside together. They'd been eating at the same diner for the last few weeks. Occasionally one of them would be in the mood to cook so they would head home but for the most part their work left them tired. Greg slipped into their usual booth, Nick sitting across from him. Neither one of them looked at the menu. They knew the laminated, sticky object by heart. And by now both of them knew exactly what they wanted for breakfast. Greg was wondering if he'd even be able to eat when he caught the snatches of conversation two truckers were having.

"The whole family?" the trucker in the green hat said. "All of them just hacked up and the murderer is still on the loose?"

The trucker in the blue hat nodded. "Yep. Crazy fuck is still running around the city."

"Damn," his fellow trucker said. "I'm glad I don't live here. You don't hear about things like this in Wisconsin. I think I'm going to cut my visit short this time around."

"Probably a good idea."

Greg jumped when he felt Nick touch his hand. He turned to look at his lover knowing that there was no way Nick couldn't have heard the conversation. Judging by the look on Nick's face he had heard it. "Let's go," he said, climbing to his feet. "We'll find something to eat at home." He offered his hand to Greg who took it, happy that in a matter of minutes he wouldn't have to worry about being alone for the rest of the day. He'd be sleeping in the arms of the man he loved. Hopefully that would provide him with enough comfort to keep the nightmares at bay.

But as they stepped out into the already hot morning he knew that no matter what he did his sleep was going to be anything but peacefully.


	3. See Me Through

**Title:** Take Me There

**Note: **I admit that this story is going to be rather dark and angsty. Would you expect anything less of me?

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**Chapter Three: See Me Through**

_Before we met I was free, I never had to worry about anyone but me, Now that boy is gone and in his place, Is a man who needs to hold you night and day, So if I stumble, if I fall, Forgive me I'm just learning as I go alone…_

One bad dream was more than enough for him. He didn't want to relive the horror of the mass murder while he was supposed to be dreaming of Nick. He had gotten to Nick's house with a hope that he was going to sleep soundly and throughout the day. They'd made love before drifting off each secure in the knowledge that the other one lay right next to them. He went with a smile on his face. But before long his pleasant dreams turned quickly bitter. He dreamed of the farm house and the family. He saw the mother and the father sharing an intimate moment in the kitchen. He heard the kids upstairs as they got ready for school. Then he heard the creak of the door hinge as someone slipped in through the front. He knew that small detail was wrong but this was a dream and he had no control over it. He watched as the parents met an untimely end, the husband trying to protect his wife in vain. There hadn't even been time for them to scream, the murderer executing the perfect attack, slashing with a knife. Greg knew that detail was wrong, too. Then he bore silent witness to the murdering of each child. The first one died at the bottom of the stairs as he came down for breakfast. The rest of them died in their bedrooms. All that blood shed, all those lives ended and he could still clearly see the glint of evil in the murderer's eyes; it sent a chill down his spine. Greg watched as the murderer slipped out the backdoor and headed toward the next house; which looked little more than a dollhouse on the horizon. Greg knew what was going to happen. He knew that the family living peacefully in that distant house was next on the murderer's list and that they killer would not be happy until they had met their end.

He sat up in bed, his hands trembling and his skin coated in the slightest layer of sweat. Light from the afternoon sun seeped through cracks between the curtain and the window frame. The stray rays of light created weird shadows around the room and Greg was forced to close his eyes, blocking out the images. But with his eyes closed he saw flashes of the dream, the fear racing through his body once again. He must have cried out or made some sound because Nick stirred beside him. He sat there clutching the blanket in his hands, his head hanging down while his eyes remained unfocused. He was concentrating on his breathing, trying to slow the beat of his panicked heart. Even though he knew Nick was awake beside him he still jumped at the touch of the hand on his back.

Nick quickly removed his hand from the small of Greg's back. "Whoa," he said his voice even and calm. "It's just me, Greggie." Nick sat up, the covers pooling in his lap, his chest bare. "Did you have another bad dream?"

Greg simply nodded. Ever since they'd started working the case his days had been haunted by visions of blood-soaked walls and senseless killings. With each passing day he found himself getting less and less sleep. Before long he wouldn't be sleeping at all and though the idea did appeal to him, he knew that a man in his line of work would end up dead from misjudgment caused by his tired brain. He sighed, then fell back on the bed, his hands clasped above his head on the pillow.

Nick looked down at him. "Maybe you should ask to be removed from the case…"

Greg swallowed. That wasn't such a bad idea. He would never go through with it, though. He knew that no one would think him weak if he wanted to be removed from the case; it was a particularly nasty crime and his first mass murder. But if he bowed out now then he would lose all confidence in himself and that was something that he couldn't let happen. Besides, they had the murder weapon. It was only a matter of time until the whole thing was over. He shook his head. "Nah, I want to see this through. I need to see this through…for me…"

He knew that Nick would understand. The Texan had gone through challenges of his own just a few months ago. After being buried alive he'd been afraid to sleep with the lights off and he loathed going anywhere that was even remotely underground. Nick conquered his fears, though, and now he was almost back to normal. Greg wanted to conquer his fears, whatever they were, and once again be a useful member of the team. He never wanted to regret his decision to leave the lab behind. He never wanted to regret any of the actions he made in his life. A life of regrets was no life at all, as far as he was concerned.

"Let's just go back to bed," he muttered. Maybe he would get lucky and get at least one more good hour of undisturbed sleep.

Nick shook his head and climbed out of the bed. "Look at the clock, Sanders. We have to be to work in less than two hours. Who has time for anymore sleep?" He plucked his pillow off the bed and tossed it at Greg. "And if you plan on showering here you'd better get your ass out of bed." Greg watched Nick head toward the bathroom, enjoying the lovely view of his lover's backside. He groaned before climbing out of bed and heading for the bathroom with a smile on his face. He loved showering with Nick. There was a thrill in being 'dirty' while they tried to wash away the filth of the night before.

They parted with a kiss at the front door an hour later.

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When they got to work things were already in motion. The fingerprint had been lifted off the hatchet and was currently being run through AFIS. Everybody hoped that the offender had been caught before. No one just up and committed murder, they had to have started somewhere. The tests for the DNA were being done, everyone awaiting the results. Greg could feel the tension in the air as he walked down the hallways. He'd gotten over the dream from earlier in the day but being back at work and seeing the pictures from the actual scene…he tried to ignore them, tried avoiding them. And he was lucky in the beginning. Every time he was sent to find someone, to ask them a question or get evidence back, he ran into them in the hallway. He never had to venture into one of the millions of rooms and risk seeing the articles of clothing or the photos. He counted himself really lucky that he didn't have to go into the garage and see the family van; which he knew would have a child seat in the back. If his luck kept up he would be able to get through his shift without a problem and maybe, just maybe, he'd get a full days rest.

But Lady Luck gave up on him as the clock neared midnight. He was walking back from his break when Warrick stopped him in the hallway. At first he thought maybe his friend was going to challenge him to a game or something when they got off shift. It was always fun to play video games with Nick or a game of basketball with Warrick; it cleared his mind and relaxed his body. Instead Warrick surprised him, telling him that Grissom wanted to see him in his office as soon as possible. Greg wasn't sure why but he knew that once he set foot inside Grissom's office that things were not going to go well. He could already feel the familiar flutter of the butterflies in his stomach. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans he headed toward Grissom's office. He would admit to anyone that he liked his boss's office because of all the objects scattered around the shelves. Everything was interesting and had its own story. Not to mention he got a chance to see bugs he otherwise would never see but in a picture. He rounded the corner just in time to see Nick walk out of Grissom's office and head in the opposite direction. He frowned, wondering why Nick had been in to see Grissom.

He rapped his knuckles on the door frame and let himself in. Grissom was sitting behind his desk, his glasses on, and an open file folder on the desk. Greg swallowed nervously, wondering what the file contained. But as he walked into the museum-like room his boss closed the folder. "Have a seat, Greg."

Greg fell into the chair closest to him. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what his boss had to say. He cleared his throat and tried to remain calm nonetheless. "So, Warrick says you want to speak with me."

"I've noticed a change, Greg," said Grissom, removing his glasses.

"A change? What…what kind of change?" Greg knew instantly that his repetition of the word 'what' would be the waving flag of his nervousness, and there was no chance in hell that Grissom would miss it.

"Since we've started this case you have been a little…off. You don't seem to be your usual upbeat self. You're quieter and looking a little tired. Are you getting enough sleep?" Grissom pointed out and he continued before Greg got a chance to answer his question. "Tonight it's like you've been walking on pins and needles. I haven't seen you actually do any work on the case with the exception of running things from here to there. Now I understand that you're still new to working all aspects of a case and I know that this particular case is pretty gruesome, so I wouldn't think any less of you, Greg, if you wanted to be put on something else. There are currently no other active cases but there are always cold cases…"

Greg couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was like being back in bed with Nick. He wondered if his lover had tattled on him, maybe said something to Grissom. The idea of Nick talking about his nightmares, about his problems with the case without his consent hurt him. He thought that he could trust Nick. His fear was quickly dissolving into anger and he had to keep it under control. There was no need to make Grissom curious.

"I'm fine," Greg lied. "I can work the case. Please, Grissom, I need to see this one through. I need to know if…"

Grissom held up his hand. "I won't remove you without having a good reason or unless you ask. Just promise me that if it gets too bad you will do the right thing?"

Greg nodded, unable to speak. And when he was dismissed he took off down the hall toward the locker room. He expected to find Nick there but he wasn't. He checked the break room and got the same results. He was growing more and more frustrated when he stumbled into Sara in the hall. He asked her if she had seen Nick. After swallowing her sip of water she told him that she'd seen Nick headed out toward the parking lot a minute ago. He thanked her before heading toward the entrance of the lab. The only reason he could think for Nick to be in the parking lot was if he were going out on a call or checking up on a lead. If Greg didn't catch him now he probably wouldn't see him until the end of shift. Outside the night was cool, a gentle breeze tugged at his hair, and his mind instantly went back to last night at the farm house. He shivered as he stood there scanning the well-lit lot. Nick was standing by one of the Denalies.

He headed in Nick's direction, anger propelling him across the pavement. "How could you?" he called out.

Nick whirled around. "Greg-"

But Greg was quick to cut him off. "What gave you the right, Nick? How could you tell Grissom? I thought this was something that would stay between me and you. I trusted you, Nick."

"What are you talking about?" Nick asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Don't act like you don't know!" Greg was mad, angrier than he had been in a very long time. And he looked at Nick one last time before heading back to the lab. He could hear Nick calling his name but he didn't bother to turn around or responded. He'd trust Nick with his fears. Now he looked weak in front of his boss and that only made the problems worse. Greg actually felt like crying, his heart breaking a little. Before he reached the entrance Nick stopped calling after him and he went inside unaware that Catherine had witnessed the entire thing.


	4. One Good Love

**Title: **Take Me There**

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**

Chapter Four: One Good Love 

_One good love, You bless all my memories, You soften the fall of my tears, And in my arms you're more than enough, You're one good love…_

Greg didn't speak to him the rest of the night. He didn't show up at his house later when their shift ended and as the clock signaled the end of yet another shift, Nick was finishing his second night of dealing with a cold shoulder. He didn't understand what had happened between him and Greg. They had a wonderful thing going. Now the man he loved wouldn't even stop long enough to explain why he was mad. His heart was breaking. They'd never really had a fight before and he guessed that that made them over due for one, but the whole not-talking was wearing on his nerves. He loved Greg. They had been together for a few months and every day that they spent together was a day that he cherished. For a long time he had been afraid to give away his heart. He saw the cruelty of the world every night that he went to work and his past was full of dark days. Confessing his love to Greg had been the best day of his life. That first time they slept together had been heaven on earth. He knew that if given the chance he would spend the rest of his life wrapped up in his lover's arms.

If only he could get Greg to talk to him.

He'd been trying all night to catch the younger man when he least expected it but either someone was telling him what was going on or Greg was an expert at avoiding people. He figured that it had to be a mix of both. Sighing he sat heavily on the wooden bench that ran between the metal lockers. The door to his locker hung open, pictures of him and Greg decorated the door. There were pictures of his other friends but most of them were of the two of them or of just Greg. Every day he came to work surprised that nobody had figured out their secret. As far as he could tell the team thought that they were just good friends, nothing more. He was amazed that as good detectives they hadn't figured things out. He had to admit that he and Greg were usually pretty good at acting professionally, leaving the lovey-dovey stuff for when they were alone but didn't necessary mean that they weren't giving themselves away with some insignificant word or gesture. Someone had to know and he had to figure out who knew so that he could talk to them. There was no way he was going to sort this argument out by himself, not with the way Greg was avoiding him.

Suddenly the door to the locker room opened and there stood Greg. He took one look at Nick before turning on his heel and leaving, the door closing behind him. Nick was up and moving in the next second, shoving the door out of his way. He grabbed Greg before the younger man could get any further. With a good grip on Greg's wrist he pulled him back into the sanctuary of the locker room. There were only the two of them in the room. It was a perfect place to talk, the lockers bearing witness to whatever happened. The minute he could Greg pulled free of Nick but he could not escape because Nick stood in front of the only door. He could always hide in one of the shower stalls but that meant he'd really be cornered and Nick knew that he wouldn't stand for that. None of them liked to be cornered; they liked to know the ways in and out of a room. One of the first things they learned was to locate the nearest exit incase they needed to make a quick get away.

Greg made a go for the door and Nick stopped him, placing his hands on Greg's chest. "Hold up, Sanders. You and I have to talk. I would have rather done this at either my place or yours but you've left me no choice."

He stepped back. "I don't feel like talking to you right now."

"I don't care," Nick said out of frustration. Usually he did care, especially when it came to Greg. He momentarily wondered if maybe he cared too much. "All night you have been avoiding. You didn't call yesterday and you never returned the call I made when you didn't show at my place. Now I want to know what you're so mad at me. What the hell did I do to deserve the cold shoulder?"

"You know full well what you did," Greg remarked. "You told Grissom about my dreams. What right did you have to bring up my nightmares? I thought I could trust you and…"

"Greggie," Nick said softly, "I never told Grissom about them. How would I explain to him that I know you're having trouble sleeping? I can't believe you thought I'd do something like that. When have I ever given you reason to doubt me, Greg?"

Greg chewed on his bottom lip before answering. "Never."

"Precisely, so why are you so mad?"

"I saw you," he said, his voice hushed. "Warrick told me that Grissom wanted to talk so I headed for his office and I saw you coming out. I thought maybe..." Greg shrugged.

Nick smiled. It had only been a little more than a day but it felt like he hadn't smiled in weeks. "Jumping to conclusion, what have I told you about that?"

"It doesn't get me anywhere but in trouble…"

"Greg, I wasn't there talking about you," Nick said, taking Greg's hands in his. "You know that Grissom may not be the best when it comes to emotions but he can read people. He's probably been studying you like one of his many bugs."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better," Greg remarked. Nick was happy to note that there wasn't even the slightest trace of anger in his voice. They were still alone, no one having bothered to try entering the locker room. Nick took the opportunity to pull Greg toward him. He never liked the idea of arguing with someone that he loved and the last day or so had been hell on his nerves. Never in his life would he have thought he'd fall so hard for someone the way he'd fallen for Greg. And the fact that it was Greg that stole his heart made it even more amusing. The two of them came from different worlds. Greg was a genius and he was a former jock. But somehow they clicked, they worked and now he wanted nobody but Greg. They always tried to keep their feelings out of the lab and they did a good job of it. However, tonight Nick wasn't in the mood to play games. He pressed his lips against Greg's, feeling the rush of heat that went through his body. The kiss didn't seem like much but when Nick pulled away Greg's cheeks were flush.

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The wind whipped around her, pulling at her hair and sweeping it across her face. She brushed it away with her hand knowing that it was futile. There was a nasty storm brewing on the horizon and before the light of day the world would be soaked thoroughly. She didn't mind working in the rain when her crime scene existed mainly indoors but part of her scene was outside. The rain could wash away vital evidence and put the case at risk. That was something she couldn't and wouldn't allow. But with the wind being so strong putting up a tent over the area was out of the question. It would just get torn down in a strong breeze. The mess inside probably held more clues but she had to start outside before she lost something. She'd never forgive herself if she let a killer walk loose because the rain washed away a boot print or a damning blood smear. She frowned, looking to her left. She had called into the lab for back-up to help with the scene but so far no one had shown. Grissom guaranteed her at least one of the other team members and as the thunder rumbled she hoped they'd arrive in time. The storm sounded closer.

She let her eyes trail over the small house before her. A case of déjà vu passed over her. Yet again she found herself standing outside a small two-story farmhouse. When the call had come in no one knew what to expect. They were still working feverishly on the last crime, the mass murder, when the call was placed by a passing motorist. At least that was how the man identified himself. The nine-one-one operator asked him to stay but when the police arrived the guy was nowhere to be found. That placed him high on her list of suspects. An innocent person had no reason not to stick around. She recalled the call, the way the man's voice had declared that something seemed off about a house he'd driven by. When asked what was wrong the guy said something about a large amount of blood on the front door and part of the siding. A floodlight in the yard, the only light for miles around, lit the blood, giving it an eerie horror movie look. She started taking pictures while being careful where she stepped. An officer was standing by his cruiser, his radio in easy reach. After the last farmhouse visit she wasn't taking any risks. Nobody had been inside the house but it was clear the place was empty. There were lights blazing in all the windows. There were no shadows, no signs of movement inside. That unnerved her.

She knew she should have gone inside with the officer and checked things out but some unexplainable fear kept her from crossing over the threshold. She would near the front door and it was like a cold invisible stone wall sprang up before her. She just couldn't do it. And she hated herself for it. The sound of tires on gravel interrupted her train of thought as she collected swabs of the blood from various points. She turned and instantly filled with relief at the sight of the lab's Denali pulling up beside the police cruiser. Nick climbed out of the front seat and headed in her direction.

"Talk about a case of déjà vu," he remarked. "So tell me, Sara, what do we have inside?"

She smiled sheepishly as a chill ran down her spine. "I…I haven't gotten the nerve to go inside. There's…when I get close to the door I get this bad feeling and I can't…"

"Then we'll go together. You and I," he said. He waved the officer over. It was the man's duty to go in first; after all he was the real officer at the scene. Nick pulled his gun out of his holster and Sara followed his example. She was happy that Nick was her back-up. He seemed to understand her hesitation in going inside and didn't even question her about it. Grissom or Catherine would have been mad. Warrick might have poked fun at her and Greg; well she figured that telling Greg about her feelings would have freaked him out.

The officer entered first, Nick on his heels and her bringing up the rear. The officer headed up the stairs and Nick motioned for Sara to go with him. He let them know that he would take the rooms on the main floor. Like the last farmhouse this place had a basement but it was only assessable from the outside. She followed the officer up the stairs. The house was old, built years ago and the wood under her feet creaked with each step. There was no way anyone could hide in the house without making noise. The officer opened the first bedroom door and he looked gray around the gills instantly. Sara peeked over his shoulder and saw the blood on the bed, on the floor. There was a pair of feet peeking out from the far side of the bed, the rest of the body hidden. The officer started into the room when a loud crack of thunder made them jump. The two of them stood there trying to slow their hearts as the rain began to fall in sheets. The officer began to walk toward the body again when there was a thump from downstairs. A moment of silence passed with no other sounds and that sent Sara's heart racing once again. Like a well oiled machine the two of them headed back down the stairs in the search for Nick. Neither one of them called out for fear of alerting the wrong person but as they eliminated each room Sara began to feel sick. The last room they checked was the kitchen in the back of the house.

And there was blood on the floor.

Nick's gun lay beside it.

The officer radioed for help, yelling to the dispatcher that they had an officer in need of assistance. Meanwhile Sara had drawn closer to the backdoor which stood wide open, rain pooling on the floor just inside. Unlike the front yard there was no floodlight out back and she couldn't see anything. Somewhere out there Nick was in trouble. Her palms felt sweaty. Already she could hear the cry of the sirens in the distance as the storm raged on. Would they find Nick? Would he be okay? Lightning struck in the desert and she could have sworn that she saw two figures but for all she knew they were nothing but cactuses. Sara wanted to race into the dark in search of Nick but she knew that it wasn't a good idea. She couldn't see anything without giving away her position. She might accidentally shoot Nick or he could shoot her. As much as she hated it she knew that she had to wait for back-up. The seconds turned to minutes, the minutes paraded around as hours. Back-up arrived in ten minutes as three cops cars followed by an ambulance rolled upon the scene. Sara noticed that another of the lab's vehicles was trailing the pack. Everyone piled out of the cars and headed toward the house. None of the officers were allowed to enter the house since it was a crime scene so they were soaked as they walked around toward the back. Warrick and Greg were part of the pack. The two paramedics stayed with the ambulance not wanting their rescue supplies to get damaged by the rain.

Sara was about to explain what had been going on when they all heard the report of a gun somewhere near the edge of the yard. Some flinched at the unexpected sound; others drew weapons waiting for more fire. Without warning Greg tore off into the dark yard. Warrick and Sarah yelled after him. She heard the distinct sound of Brass's voice before she saw the detective emerge from the group and take off after him. She followed him, hearing Warrick behind her. None of them should have been running away from the safety of the house. There was no light and the driving rain made it all that much harder to see. But somewhere out there Nick needed them.

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Greg found him first, falling to his knees in the wet sand. "Nicky, are you okay?" He had to yell to be heard over the storm. Nick turned to look at him. He smiled but followed it with a grimace of pain. There was blood along the side of his face. Greg reached out, touching it and pulling his hand away. A chill ran down his spine. He didn't like having Nick's blood on his hand so he wiped it on his pants. By now Greg realized that Nick hadn't answered his simple question. He was going to ask it again when Nick grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. He'd always wanted to kiss Nick in the rain. There was something romantic about sharing an intimate moment in the pouring rain.

"I love you," Nick said when they broke apart, and Greg knew for certain that everything was okay.

Then the others were joining them.


	5. It's Not Just Me

**Title: **Take Me There

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**Chapter Five: It's Not Just Me**

_Tell me that you live for love, That forever is never enough, That you've waited all your life to see, That you want so badly to believe, Tell me that it's not just me…_

The end of the shift ended horribly, leaving them with more work and more questions. There was little doubt in anyone's mind that murders at the second farmhouse were connected to those committed a week before. The houses were only separated by a field, each visible to the other. Only three people had died this time but that was still far too many for Grissom to go home and sleep. He ordered the others to get a good day of rest but remained behind at the lab to run tests and get a head start on the evidence. The pressure from the sheriff had been increased as the mayor began to feel things weren't moving along fast enough. Ecklie hadn't said one nice thing to Grissom since the start of the case and now, if possible, he was more of a pain in the ass than he'd been to begin with. Tension was going to be elevated in the lab until they managed to break the case. The fingerprint evidence had led them nowhere and the DNA on the weapon and at both scenes belonged to the victims. So far the killer had gotten away with the perfect murders.

And that didn't sit well with anyone.

That's why Nick wasn't in bed, sitting on the couch in his living room instead. He couldn't shake the feeling of being useless. There was a killer running loose in the city and here he was doing nothing about it. Not that he would have been any help to anyone. The rest of his evening and early morning had been spent in the emergency room waiting to have his head examined. At least Grissom had sent Greg along with him, though he figured that had something to do with Greg's growing troubles over the case. In all the years that they'd worked together he could not recall any other time that he had seen Greg so subdued, so disturbed. It worried him. He wished that they could find a clue that would lead them in the right direction. He felt that the sooner this case was solved the better off they would all be. Not to mention, the citizens would be able to rest. The lab was doing everything it could to help keep things under wraps so that it didn't look as bad as it really was when written up in the paper, but even they could only do so much to alleviate the fears of neighbors and parents. He wondered how much longer they would go before people started hurting one another, jumping to conclusions. He could see it now, some man selling things door to door being shot because the home owners thought he was a killer. If they couldn't find the killer the city was going to start falling apart.

He sighed, shifting his weight on the couch. Outside the sun had risen above the horizon and was pouring in through the living room window bathing the room in its light. It wasn't enough to drive away the chill that passed over him. He heard a car door slam and knew that in a matter of minutes Greg would be walking through the front door. He wanted to have a talk with his lover, a serious conversation but he wasn't sure if he should even bother. The last thing he wanted to do was make Greg's apprehension and stress worse by talking about the case away from work. However, he had to say something, had to make sure that Greg was okay and not keeping things from him. He remained unmoving as he heard the key in the lock and the door opened. Greg stepped through the door, closing and locking it behind him. It was the same ritual that Nick went through day after day even since that stalker broke into his house.

Greg held up a little white bag and smiled. "Breakfast of champions."

"Donuts?"

"What else?" he said, leaving the bag on the coffee table and heading toward the kitchen. As always Greg had perfect timing when it came to the coffee. He was the only person Nick knew that could start a pot of coffee and leave for the store to return just as the coffee was finished brewing. Greg joked that he had a special sixth sense when it came to the pleasant smelling liquid. Nick didn't doubt it. Usually they would be getting ready for bed but the two of them were too hyped to go to bed. A lot of things had happened in a short span of time, their brains still running on overdrive.

"You know, Greg, you really like that stereotype, don't you?" Nick called out. He'd remained on the couch. Reaching for the bag he pulled out a sugar donut. "Though they do make for a yummy breakfast."

"Perfect little rings of delicious confectionary," remarked Greg as he walked back into the living room with two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to Nick before settling on the sofa beside him. He kept his hands wrapped around his mug, ignoring the bag of food on the table.

Nick frowned. "Aren't you going to eat?" He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any donut within a mile radius of Greg survive longer than two seconds.

"Nah," Greg shook his head. "I don't have much of an appetite this morning."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Instead of answering Greg sipped his coffee and stared at the wall. Silence settled over them as Nick picked at his donut, his stomach growling with hunger. His head hurt but he knew that was because his medication hadn't yet kicked in. The cut to his head was minor, not even requiring stitches. The rain had helped to make the blood look like more than it had been. Absentmindedly he ran his fingers gingerly over the bandage on his forehead, thinking about how the cut had gotten there. He hadn't talked to anyone about the events of what happened, of how he'd ended up out in the backyard in the pouring rain with a murderer. It may have had something to do with the fear burning deep in his gut. He wished that he could find the courage to express his concerns to Greg but he worried that it wouldn't be in his lover's best interest. He swallowed a piece of donut, washing it down with a swig of coffee.

"Did you see him?" Greg asked, his voice hushed.

At first Nick wasn't sure he'd actually said anything but when he turned to look at Greg his lover was looking at him. Nick thought about lying. He thought about weaving some false tale about how he'd stumbled out the backdoor and happened across the guy. He couldn't lie to Greg. "Yeah," he said his throat surprisingly dry.

Greg settled his mug on the coffee table. "So you saw the man responsible for nearly ten deaths and managed to live." He visibly shivered. "Did he at least have a mask to cover his face…?"

Nick hesitated then said, "No."

"So you've seen his face?" Greg turned to look at him, his eyes wide with fear. "Nick, he knows that you can identify him and he can identify you. You're going to have to tell Grissom and…I don't know, maybe going into hiding until the guy is caught."

"Go into hiding? I'm not going to run scared…" Nick said. "I have a job to do and yeah, I can identify the guy. That makes me valuable to the case."

"Maybe so, but how long do you think the killer is going to wait before he comes after you? It won't be hard for him to learn your name, Nick."

Nick put down his coffee mug and pulled Greg toward him. He kissed him on the cheek, running a hand down his back. "Don't worry about me, Greggie. I'm not going to go anywhere and nothing is going to happen. Not this time. I'm going to be around to love you forever. In fact, there's something that I wanted to give you. Wait here a moment," he said, climbing off the couch and heading for the bedroom.

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Grissom wasn't the only one still at the lab in the morning. Shift ended nearly three hours ago and he was busy going over every photo from the two crime scenes. He knew that the killer was the same person but he was looking for similarities, maybe something they missed at the first house would be evident at the second one. It could be anything; a smearing of blood, the positioning of bodies, anything. He put down the magnifying glass he'd been using and rubbed his eyes. He was always telling his team that a CSI who couldn't concentrate because of sleep deprivation was a danger to himself and the case he was working. Yet here he was going against his own advice. His team members didn't have to deal with the pressures of Ecklie or the sheriff or the mayor. As the head investigator on both cases he was getting the brunt of the pressure, of the demand to have the cases solved quickly. He was beginning to think that none of the men cared about the evidence as long as they could close the case. They'd take anyone, perhaps even locking up the very first questionable suspect and blaming them for the murders. He wouldn't settle for that. His job was science and he always followed the evidence. It was just that there wasn't anything damning at either crime scene. He sighed, putting his glasses back on and bending over the table to look at the bodies of both mothers.

There was a knock at the door. Catherine came walking in, a purpose to her step. She placed her hands on the table. "Still working the case? I thought you wanted all of us to go home and sleep."

"You're still here," he remarked, not bothering to look up from his work.

"I wanted a chance to talk to you in private."

Her words registered and he looked up, placing the magnifying glass on the table. "And you felt the need to wait until everyone else was gone? I do have an office with a door that closes, Cath, you know that."

"I'm aware of that," she said. "But I didn't want to take the chance of anyone interrupting us."

"What's on your mind? I take it that it's not related to the case?"

She shook her head. "It's about Greg and Nick."

"What about them?"

"Have you noticed anything different about them? I only ask because I caught them having an argument in the parking lot the other night. Greg seemed pretty mad; he was convinced that Nick was telling you things about dreams he'd been having or something like that."

Grissom sighed. "Why should this concern me?"

"Take it from someone who knows, Griss; this looked like a lover's quarrel."

There was no way that he'd heard her right. He took off his glasses, frowning. "You think…"

"Hey, you never know," she shrugged. "Think about it. Have you heard Nick talking about any girls lately? He didn't even crack a joke while we were working that modeling case. Not one word about the pretty ladies. And Greg stopped hitting on Sarah. You can't tell me that I am the only one who's noticed these changes, amongst other things."

Grissom put his glasses back on. "Don't share this with anyone else. If the two of them are….we don't need Ecklie catching wind of it. He'd only make hell for the two of them. If you're right then they've been very good at keeping it out of the office and that's all I care about." He figured that would be the end of the conversation but Catherine remained, apparently not having said all she wanted.

"And you're fine with the whole thing?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" he asked. "So what if they love each other, Catherine. Last time I checked being in love wasn't a sin."

"Office romance…"

"I promise to keep any eye on them and if their feelings cause problems with their job, I'll step in. Until then I don't really care what either one of them does when off the clock," he remarked.


	6. Waiting all my Life

**Title: **Take Me There

**Thank you to those who have reviewed! **

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**Chapter Six: Waiting All My Life**

_And did I lose faith, did I lose heart, Maybe I did, but I never lost my way, To where you are-I've been…_

Greg ran through the lab in search of Catherine, Warrick, anyone that could help him. He'd been working in the garage when he spotted a large pool of blood. He knew by the amount of blood that whoever it belonged to was going to die without immediate medical attention. After searching the garage and finding no one he figured he'd have the entire lab searched but for some reason he couldn't find anyone. The lab rooms were empty. There wasn't a single person in sight, not even the lab techs in their bright white coats. He yelled at the top of his lungs as he tried to locate someone, anyone. There had to be someone else in the lab. He couldn't possibly be alone. Rounding a corner he came to a stop. There was more blood on the floor. The only difference between this one and one in the garage was the serious of footsteps in it. Someone had walked through this patch of blood without stopping. Where were his friends, his colleagues? Why couldn't he find anyone? He closed his eyes, screaming.

When he opened them he saw his friends, all of them. Catherine was talking, her lips moving, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. There was Warrick, a scalpel in his hands and Sara with a pair of surgeon's scissors. By the way Grissom was standing he could tell that his boss was overseeing whatever was going on. As he stood there, afraid to move, he watched as Nick argued with Warrick, their words never reaching him. Giving in, Warrick passed the scalpel to Nick who bent over the table they were all standing around. Greg heard a scream that sounded like his, the only sound in the entire room and it sent a cold chill running down his spine. He found the courage to walk toward the small group, knowing as he did so that he'd bee the one lying on the table. He saw the blood, heard the screams. Someone touched him and he jumped, whirling around.

They weren't in the lab anymore. They were in Nick's living room, the light of the day coming through the window, a breeze passing through the screen. He sighed in relief as Nick smiled at him. He must have been day dreaming or…Something out the corner of his eye caught his attention. There was something red on the wall but from where he was sitting he couldn't make out what it was. It kind of looked like someone had written a word on the wall in crayon or something. Instead of saying anything to Nick, for reason he didn't understand, he got up and walked over to the wall. His heart stopped beating, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Someone had gone through the trouble of writing the word 'bye' on the wall in blood. He knew it was blood, he'd seen enough of it in his life time. He turned around to say something to Nick but Nick wasn't there…

Greg woke up, the images of the dream fading but not going away. He rolled onto his back in the hazy room, the sound of Nick sleeping soundly beside him. He didn't even want to begin speculating on what his dream meant. He recalled the conversation he'd had that morning with Nick about the killer and wondered if they'd been brought on by that. But all the blood and Nick missing and the team cutting him up; what did all of it mean? He sighed, playing with the ring on his finger. The simple band of metal was a gift from Nick, who had a matching one. They agreed that Greg would wear his on his ring finger while Nick wore his on a chain around his neck. It would be hidden under his shirt at work so hopefully no one would ask questions. Greg felt hopeless. He was finally in love. He'd waited so long to give his heart to someone and now it looked like everything was going to go to hell.

He rolled over and cuddled close to Nick's back, happy to have him there.

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"Tired, Greg?" questioned Warrick as he slipped on his shoes. He kept an extra pair of work boots in his locker and changed into them before each shift. Something about not wanting to get his expensive shoes ruined. Greg realized that the girls didn't think that way about their shoes, Catherine usually wearing heals of some sort to the job. They made her legs look great but Greg couldn't help wondering if they ever caused her a problem. They weren't really conventional.

"Didn't get much sleep," he remarked. "I can't get the images out of my head long enough to get a good rest."

"It'll get easier, eventually," Warrick said. "The cases are always going to be bad; murder can't be softened no matter how hard you try. And there are always going to be cases that really get to you but before long you'll find the best way to deal with them."

"How do you deal with them?" he asked. He was sitting on the bench. He'd been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes, even though he really had no reason for being in there. There wasn't anything he wanted from his locker.

"Music. I go home, play a little piano, maybe pop in one of my favorite CDs and just let myself get carried away," Warrick said, sitting on the bench beside him. "Catherine has her daughter, Grissom has his bugs and Sara, well….I'm not exactly sure what she does but you could always ask her. And as far as Nick, he has you."

Greg looked up, surprised by what Warrick had said and maybe even a little panicked. What did Warrick know about them? "Me?"

"Yeah, you. I know you guys are always playing games and stuff," said Warrick. "I guess killing people in a video game is a good way to get out one's aggressions the legal way. Nick seems to cope well, though with this case…" Warrick stood. "Better get your butt in gear. Shift starts in a few minutes."

"Yeah…"

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Nick photographed the vehicle, starting with shots from a distance to get the entire thing in the frame. Then he moved onto more detailed photos; the tires that were mired in the drying mud, the windshield with the spider crack, the door handle with the trace of blood. The call had come in late that evening, a few hours into their shift. Someone had spotted a truck on this back road and thought it was suspicious. After first the crime lab wasn't at all interested in the call. That was until Brass called to report the trace of blood. Now there was buzz that it might be the killer's truck. The rain storm would have softened the desert ground and on this road getting stuck would have been easy. Chances are that the guy tried to use a road the cops wouldn't in his escape only to get caught up in the muck. When he couldn't get the truck moving he'd left on foot. There were boot prints drying in the sun. With the truck and the prints they finally had some solid leads to work with. As he photographed the tailgate he heard Greg muttering under his breath as he dug through the interior of the cab. Looking over his shoulder he could see Sara walking through the landscape with a flashlight trained on the ground. Catherine was doing the same but in the opposite direction. They were hoping to find anything the guy might have dropped.

He snapped a photo of the tailgate handle before pulling it. With the tailgate out of the way he began to photograph the bed. There were a few things in the back; gravel, a handful of leaves, a scrap of newspaper. None of it seemed damning but even the most insignificant looking piece of evidence was important, he knew that. He was about to put down the camera and take a sample of the gravel when he heard Greg whimper. He looked up, frowning, unsure if he'd heard correctly. There was a floodlight centered on the scene so he could see the interior of the cab clearly and he didn't see Greg. Putting the camera on the tailgate he started around the truck. Greg was sitting on the ground.

"Greg-o?" To him it looked like Greg's shoulders were shaking. Was he crying? Nick heard shoes on gravel and looked to see Sara coming toward them. He realized that she must have heard the same thing he did. With any luck Catherine had been too far away to notice. The last thing he wanted was for her to see Greg falling apart at a crime scene. That would be grounds for…well; he didn't even want to think about it. Greg had enough problems the last thing he needed was Grissom getting mad at him. He crouched, placing a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Greg, what's wrong?"

"Is he okay?" Sara asked.

Nick shrugged, looking at the few tears on Greg's face. "Greg?"

"I don't think I can do this anymore," he said in a whisper. "I can't…"

Sara's brow furrowed as she too crouched near Greg. "You're a great scientist, Greg. You know more than any of us could possibly fathom, with the possible exception of Grissom. This job….maybe you should have stayed in the lab. Maybe that's your true calling."

"Yeah…" Greg nodded.

"Hey, that's no way to make him feel better," Nick grumbled a tinge of anger in his voice. He didn't like people to mess with Greg's confidence. It didn't seem right to him. Yeah, they shouldn't baby him but he hadn't seen most of the things they had. He wasn't used to so much death. He was used to working with swabs and substances, clothes and whatever else they gave him. Not bodies and blood spatter. "Look, Greg, I'm sure that whatever it is it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Greg remarked, a look of disbelief on his face. "Do you hear yourself? I can't sleep without having nightmares. I'm tired and even when I'm awake I see them. I can't get their faces out of my head. And you got hurt, Nick. What if they guy tries to….he could kill you. But you seem fine with doing your job and the whole lot of you go about this like it's nothing. I can't take it."

"Greg…"

"Here," the younger CSI said, holding out a bag. Sara took it and looked at the evidence inside, her eyes going wide with surprise.

"Shit."

"What?" Nick asked.

She held up the bag. "What we have here is a finger. And if I recall none of the bodies, from either scene, happened to be missing a finger."

"Which means that it belongs to someone else…"

"Bingo. Wonder if the ring can give us any clue to the owner…" Sara stood and made her way around the truck, calling out for Catherine.

Nick remained where he was, his hand on Greg's shoulder. "Greg, I promise you, nothing is going to happen to me. I won't let it."

Greg resisted the urge to reach out and hold Nick close. He didn't want to risk the chance of being caught while at work. They'd been doing so well in hiding their relationship. "I just can't stand the thought of losing you, Nick. I came close once and…"

"Look at me," Nick said. He cupped Greg's chin in his hand. "You're all I've ever wanted in this world, Greg. You give me hope that this planet isn't completely fucked up. Nothing can ever take me away from you. I've waited too long to let this love go without one hell of a fight."


	7. From Time to Time

**Title: **Take Me There

* * *

**Chapter Seven: From Time To Time**

_From time to time I have regrets, For all the things I didn't say, That were on my list, From time to time my memory slips, But you're the one thing in my life, I won't forget. There'll never be a minute of the day, I won't think of you, My feelings are so strong in me, I feel it through and through, There'll never be a night so dark that you won't shine, Or a dream that we've lost that we can't find, You'll always be, oh the one for me, I think of you from time to time, and in between…_

The finger began to haunt his every waking minute and even a few of his dreams. Grissom, oddly enough, had found the discovery to be wonderful in his own personal way. As he explained to them, their eyes shinning with disbelief, it meant that there was another crime scene somewhere waiting for them to process it. There could be answers, and in the seemingly endless search for answers, one more place could be all they needed. That was, if they could locate it within the vast city. Sara didn't say what she was thinking; what if they weren't looking for a place within Nevada? Warrick went to see Catherine about having the pick-up truck brought into the crime lab garage. Grissom took the finger; he wanted to get it down to Doc Robin as soon as possible. He was curious to find out whether or not it came from a living person or one who had died, the finger being cut post-mortem. Nick and Greg and Sara were to busy themselves with the other evidence that had been turned up in their search. Nick took the leaves, giving Greg the gravel. Sara had found a trace amount of fabric stuck to a cactus. None of them figured their evidence would be the piece that closed the case but they put all their focus on the tests, making sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. They met in the break room three hours later.

Sara took a bite of the apple she'd been snacking on. "My fibers are a dead end. They're from a red t-shirt that can be bought at millions of Wal-Marts around the country. I haven't even attempted to try finding the store this particular shirt was purchased from. I'd be looking for the rest of my life."

"If we had a picture we could flash to people…" Greg mused, sipping from his mug of Hawaii Blue coffee.

"But we don't," Nick said.

"Which is why I'm not bothering to search the stores," finished Sara. "This guy never leaves a victim alive so we can't even get a rough sketch."

"As far as we know he's never left anyone alive," pointed out Nick. "If Grissom is right and there's another crime scene there's a whole lot of possibilities waiting for us. We could find a damning clue or a witness, maybe even a living victim."

Sara smiled. "Dream on, Nicky-boy."

"Hey," Nick smiled his hands up in the air, "you never know what might happen tomorrow. We could all wake up dead."

Greg looked up sharply; he'd been staring at the table, focusing on the scratches of the marred top. Now his wide eyes were staring at Nick. His heart had skipped a beat when Nick said the word 'dead'. His mind instantly went back to the conversation they'd had the other day about Nick seeing the killer. And then it hit him. Nothing about this conversation was right. They were supposed to be talking about evidence but instead Nick and Sara were discussing the lack of living victims. How could either one of them have forgotten about Nick's run-in with the killer? Their living victim was sitting at the table but they were acting like that night had never happened, like the small bandage on Nick's forehead wasn't there. What was wrong with them? He felt like screaming at them to stop acting stupid but he held the urge in.

The conversation went on without him.

"The leaves got me nowhere," Nick said. He finished off the last sip of his soda and crushed the can in his hand. "They're from a birch tree. To be specific, a paper birch."

"Can't be too hard to find one. I assume there aren't many of them around here," Sara suggested.

Nick shrugged. "With all the fancy landscaping that people like to do in hopes of making the desert pretty…I bet there are more than we realize."

"Shit."

"Yep. 'Nother dead end."

Grissom walked into the break room with a sheet of paper in his hands. He wasn't really paying any attention to his team because he'd heard them talking on his way in. He knew that they were talking about the case; brainstorming and as long as they were doing their job he didn't care if they stopped for a break. Normally he wouldn't mind a little conversation about non-work related things; however this was a big case that needed to be put to rest. All things not related to work were to be left at the door. There was no room for things of that nature. He went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup of coffee while Sara and Nick mused over the idea of finding a Wal-Mart with birch trees nearby, wondering if it were even worth the effort. It seemed like a million other moments that they'd shared over the years.

Until Greg broke his coffee cup, the mug shattering in his hands, the remaining liquid spilling over the table and onto the floor.

Both Sara and Nick jumped. The sound even caught Grissom off guard. Sara jumped to her feet to get a handful of napkins to start cleaning up the mess. Nick instantly went to retrieve the first aid kit, Greg's blood mixing with the dark beverage, sharp pieces of the mug having pierced his skin. Forgetting about his own coffee and the report from Doc Robins that he'd been reading, Grissom walked toward Greg. The young scientist looked tense, ready to jump to his feet at any second. Grissom reached out to touch him and Greg flinched.

"Greg…"

Nick came back into the room with the first aid kit and placed it on the table. He popped the lid, then reached for Greg's nearest hand. Greg pulled it back, the distant look on his face quickly replaced with anger. "Don't touch me," he snapped.

"Greg-o, man, it's just me," Nick said, Greg's anger surprising him. "Come on, you're bleeding. Let me clean the cuts on your hands."

"No," Greg said.

"Greg…" Grissom sounded testy and worried.

Greg ignored him. "I can't believe the two of you could just sit here and talk about this case like it's nothing. You keep talking about how we don't have anyone to identify the killer. How could you forget that Nick got attacked by him? He saw the man's face and he lived. But the two of you are acting like it never happened." Greg's voice got slightly louder as he talked drawing the attention of Catherine and Warrick as they passed by. They stood quietly in the doorway.

"You saw the killer, Nick?" inquired Grissom.

"Well….yeah…but…"

"And he left you alive," spoke Sara, the fear breaking free in her voice.

"I'm going to have you put under protection," Grissom started. "This man knows that you can identify him. He doesn't know when you'll do it, or even if you will. But it's a chance I bet he's not willing to make. Officer of the law or not I foresee him coming after you, Nick. You shouldn't be alone."

Nick sat there, the silence in the room heavy as they all thought various things. Sara was thinking how weird it would be to work in the lab if Nick died. Catherine silently thanked the heavens that she wasn't the witness, out of fear for her daughter. Warrick thought Greg was losing it. Nick was trying to figure out how he was going to spend any time with Greg if he was going to be under constant surveillance. Grissom was dealing with worrying thoughts about Greg's mental health and Nick's physical wellbeing; instead of worrying over one team member, he found himself needing to keep an eye on two of them.

Greg couldn't take the silence anymore, so he stood and raced out of the room. Nobody tried to stop him but Grissom.

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He drove off in one of the company cars knowing that the vehicle was traceable due to the low-jack. He didn't care. He drove far out into the desert until it was only him and the night sky. How odd that he'd choose to be in a desolate place when not too long ago he'd been standing in front of a farmhouse thinking about the evil things that go bump in the night. But the stars offered him some form of hope. Nick had once told him that they were beacons of hope. He pulled off to the side of the road, the tires creating dust as they left the pavement behind. He shut off the engine, making sure to keep the doors locked. His hands hurt. The tiny cuts covered his palms and he knew that the one running along the length of his left palm hand had a high probability of scaring.

He didn't care.

Slumping forward he rested his forehead on the steering wheel, his eyes closed. He wished that day in the farmhouse had never happened. He wanted all the members of that family to be alive again. His life had been somewhat normal, even happy before that day. He had a routine that involved working with Nick and other people he cared about, then going home with Nick and spending the day with someone that loved him. Now he couldn't shake the fear that something awful loomed on the horizon. And the nightmares, would they ever leave him alone?

A knock on the driver's side window made him jump, whacking his knee on the dashboard.

Grissom was standing outside the vehicle. Visible in the review mirror was Brass's sedan. Greg rolled down the window, not wanting to unlock the doors even if it was Grissom.

"We need to talk," Grissom said.

"I don't feel like talking."

"Greg, I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is," Grissom pressed.

"Who said there was a problem?" Greg knew that he was being irrational, maybe he was in denial.

Grissom kept his cool, though. "Something is clearly bothering you, Greg. I asked you a day or so ago whether or not this case was too much for you; you assured me that you would be fine. I admire your spirit, Greg, but clearly things are not working out. You seem tense, stressed, ready to jump out of your skin at any moment. Tell me what is bothering you."

At some point Greg had started to cry. He couldn't bring himself to look at Grissom so he stared at the steering wheel without focusing on it. "How can he act like nothing ever happened?" Greg mumbled. "He should know better but he doesn't talk about it and…doesn't he care anymore?"

Grissom waited in silence as Greg muttered, the phrases throwing him back in time to the conversation he'd had with Catherine. Now he was seeing what she was seeing. How could he have missed it? He was the head of the crime lab and he hadn't even noticed that two of his investigator's were walking down a dangerous path. One wrong step could get both of them fired. And he knew that if Ecklie found out there would be hell to pay. He wanted to comfort Greg, to help alleviate the pain he was dealing with but he didn't know where to start. So he reached through the window, unlocked the door, pulled it open and placed a hand on his back. With the barrier out of the way he hoped that Greg would be more open but the scientist had stopped talking and was now sitting quietly.

"Greg-"

A shot rang out, deafening in the otherwise quiet stretch of desert. There was the sound of glass shattering. Then Greg yelling in pain. Grissom acted quickly as he heard Brass throw open the driver's side door on the sedan, radioing for back-up. The nightshift supervisor reached into the SUV, unbuckling Greg's seatbelt and pulling him from the car. They hit the ground as another bullet tore through the car. Greg huddled as close to the car as he could get, his hand at his side. He could feel the liquid warmth of the blood as it seeped through his fingers. The sound of a distant vehicle pulling away was followed by the silence once again as the attacker fled into the darkness. Brass started to head their way when Grissom yelled for him to radio for an ambulance. He convinced Greg to lie on his back on the pavement. The scientist already looked pale, the pain evident in his eyes.

"Hang on, Greg," he said, placing his hand over Greg's, the blood warm on his hand. "Help is on the way."


	8. I'm Moving On

**Title: **Take me There**

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**

Chapter Eight: I'm Moving On 

_I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons, Finally content with a past I regret, I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness, For once I'm at peace with myself, I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long, I'm moving on…_

The ride to the hospital was an experience he never wanted to relive. He'd begun to feel cold, laying there on the pavement listening to Grissom talk to him while Brass ordered people around. The ambulance was a few minutes behind the police cruisers having been called in second. In that span of time Greg replayed the scene in his mind, imaging the trajectory of the bullet, the scientist in him taking over as always. It had flown through the passenger window. Had he let his hands fall to his sides maybe things would have ended differently, who's to say? But his hands were not at his sides, they were gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. That gave the bullet a clear shot at his side and it took it, passing through the cloth of his shirt and into his body. He'd never been shot before. He'd been blown up but never shot and the pain was indescribable. It scared him, lying on that pavement feeling parts of his body go numb while the bullet wound burned intensely. He wondered if this is what it felt like to die, then wondered if he was going to die. He thought about Nick and the last time he had seen him, the last words he had spoken to him. They weren't words of love; there was no feeling in them besides anger. At that moment he wanted more than anything to take them back. If he could he would do it all over again, never storming out of the lab like a little kid. But he needed the fresh air, the time to think clearly. And look where it got him.

He took a deep breath only to let it out in a hiss of pain. Grissom's hand covered his own, pressing on the wound but the blood flow never stopped. He could feel the gravel biting into his back; see the brightness of the stars overhead. Grissom continued to murmur to him a low voice, reassuring words that never fully registered with his brain. A little voice in his brain told him that it was just a side wound but people died from seemingly harmless bullet wounds every day. What if the bullet had nicked a vein or maybe it lodged in an organ. There was so much blood.

He was feeling so cold.

That's when the paramedics arrived. He couldn't see them from his prone position on the pavement but he could hear the sounds of the ambulance. Someone yelled, maybe it was Grissom, it could have been Brass. By now he was in a foggy, semi-conscious state of mind, floating between worlds. He heard the sounds of shoes running on the asphalt; he pegged them as belonging to the paramedic. Someone shouted his name, another person touched him but he was gone, in another time and space. Then he felt movement, a fluid motion and he opened his eyes to see the paramedics and Grissom, the roof of the ambulance. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. The paramedic to his left had blood all over his hands, some spotting his uniform. Greg wondered why there was so much blood. He looked to Grissom and saw the worry clearly written on his face. His boss said something to the paramedic but Greg couldn't make out the words as he drifted once again into the inky sea.

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Meanwhile, none of them knew. They were all busy working in the Trace lab running tests on substances from the vehicle. After Greg's departure they had silently set about working the case. Nick had promised to talk with a sketch artist; he was just waiting for the lady to show up. Until then he planned to figure out if there was anything in the dust and other particulates collected from the car. Unknown to them they were all suffering a deep desire to be close to one another. Maybe on some other level they all knew that something was going to go wrong.

Warrick was the first to speak. "I feel like I'm working in the morgue."

"It is rather quiet," agreed Catherine.

"I found Greg's test results for the gravel," Sara said, picking up a sheet of white paper. "Looks like it might be used in that with the birch leaves; maybe we're looking for a landscaper."

"That kills?" Warrick said.

Catherine shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. What do you think, Nick?"

He looked up at them, unaware that they'd even been talking. "What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Do you think we might be looking for a landscaper turned serial murderer?" Sara questioned.

"Why the hell not…"

Catherine was starting to like the sound of it. "We should look through the family records, see if there's any mention of a landscaper. We might have just made a connection."

"Well, they did find dirt underneath the fingernail from our bodiless-finger," said Warrick.

Nick cocked an eyebrow. "So what, the guy kills people that mistreat plants or don't like his business?"

"Maybe people made good fertilizer," Sara piqued.

There was a soft knock at the door, bringing their conversation to a halt. They all looked as Sofia entered the room, a somber expression on her face. Warrick and Catherine figured she had come by to tell them they'd located the body that went with the finger. Sara sneered; she didn't like how chummy Sofia was with Grissom. Nick felt his heart skip a beat. Sofia stopped, not bothering to walk further into the room. "Stop whatever you're doing; the crew from swing shift will be in to finish your work."

"What?" Warrick objected. "This is our case, you have no authority-"

"Warrick…" Catherine warned.

"Nobody is removing you from the case," Sofia said. "Brass just called me, and this has already been confirmed with Ecklie; Brass went with Grissom to help find Greg. There was an accident, a shooting. Greg…I haven't spoken with Grissom and neither has Brass but according to Jim things didn't look good."

At the mention of Greg's name Nick's world came to a screeching halt. He replayed the last conversation he'd had with his lover, recalling the anger in Greg's voice. He knew that he should have gone after him when he stormed out of the break room. Instead he'd stayed in his seat afraid that if he moved everyone would know their secret. Now it all seemed too trivial, so stupid and petty. He should have just gotten up and followed Greg. His mother told him a long time ago that being macho wasn't all it was cracked up to be, that sometimes showing emotion was the better road to travel down. And as he stood there now, listening to Sofia, he began to shake his head. He heard the low murmuring of the word 'no' over and over again and realized that he was saying it. Sara, who was standing closest to him, turned to look at him, a look of confusion on her face.

"You are all free to leave for the hospital. Brass remained at the scene of the crime, which dayshift will be working, but Grissom opted to ride with Greg in the ambulance…."

"No," Nick said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Do you have any idea how severe the wound is?" Catherine asked, ignoring Nick.

Sofia shook her head. "I wasn't told but it has to be bad. Brass said something about blood being on the pavement, in the car…blood on Grissom's hands…"

"No," Nick nearly yelled. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground with his hands covering his ears and his eyes screwed shut. He didn't want to hear anymore. This wasn't happening to him. This was just a horrible dream and nothing more. He was having one of Greg's nightmares and any minute now he'd be waking up. But as he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder he knew that it was anything but a dream.

He was awake and this was still a nightmare.

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At the hospital they all sat around in silence. Sara remained by Nick's side, his eyes red and swollen from crying. Grissom kept his distance from all of them, Greg's blood staining his shirt, and a look of guilt in his eyes; he was blaming himself for what happened. He should have approached the car on the passenger side, should have been sitting beside Greg. Then he would be the one in the hospital instead but he'd lived a longer life. Greg was too young to die. And he hated to see the way his team was being torn apart. The pain on Nick's face more than enough proof to close the case on his suspicions of the relationship between the two investigators. He wondered if he should say anything, offer words of hope. But no matter how many times he dealt with cases like this he never understood what to do. He'd been worried about his team members before; especially Nick who seemed to have a particularly rough time of things. But aside from Brass being shot they'd never felt so hopeless. Even when Nick had been buried alive they knew that they were going to find him by doing what they did best. There was nothing any of them could do for a gunshot wound.

He thought about the ambulance ride, the way his heart had nearly stopped the first time Greg had blacked-out. He'd been afraid that it was over, that Greg would never open his eyes again. But he had, more than once, never keeping them open for more than a few seconds before giving into the darkness again. He remembered all the blood, a clear signal that something was wrong. Gunshot wounds bled but he'd never seen one wound bleed so much unless there was an underlying cause. He waited with trepidation to hear what the doctor had to say.

And he waited into the wee hours of the morning.

The doctor came out of the back through the swinging doors. Warrick gripped Catherine's hand. Sara wrapped one arm around Nick's shoulders and took hold of his left hand with hers. Grissom was the only one standing.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "We've done all that we can."

"He's…" The rest of the words died on Warrick's lips.

"Are you saying that you lost him?" Grissom asked.

"I'm saying that we can do nothing else for him," the doctor said. "The bullet clipped an artery before piercing his right kidney. We attempted to retrieve the bullet that lodged near his spine but he crashed on the operating table. It took my team three minutes to resuscitate him. At that point I decided to close him up. He lost a lot of blood, his body went into shock. The strain may have been too much for his heart so we're keeping him on a respirator."

"What are his chances?" inquired Catherine. "Do you expect him to recover?"

"Right now I'm worried about that kidney failing and his heart giving out," the doctor answered, not sugarcoating anything. He knew they wouldn't like it if he did. "Even if he does pull through I can't say that his recovery will be full. With the large loss of blood and those three minutes…we have no way of knowing if there's brain damage until he wakes up."

"But what are his chances?" pushed Nick.

The doctor didn't look happy. "Right now, I would say he has a forty percent chance of living."


	9. These Days

**Title: **Take Me There

**Note: **I'm just a tad disappointed in the amount of reviews this story is getting. I worked so hard on it...But I shouldn't be surprised. Lots of people don't like tragedies. Anywho. Big thanks to **seether79** and **I do have a name** for reviewing almost every chapter. You two kick butt!**  
**

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**Chapter Nine: These Days**

_I wake up and tears drop, They fall down like rain, I put on that old song that we danced to and then, I head off to my job, I guess not much has changed…_

Grissom forced them all to leave the hospital. He didn't want them to spend their day sulking around the building when they should have been at home resting. They protested, like he knew that they would, but he finally convinced them to leave. He told them that if they wanted to work the case they would need the rest to help clear their minds. Day crew and swing shift were working over the evidence; there was no longer a divide in the lab. Everybody had the same goal in mind; capturing the murderous bastard that had shot Greg. Grissom watched them leave, noticing that Sara had a firm hold on Nick. What was he going to do with Nick? He recalled the case that started with Greg trying to be a hero and getting beat instead. Nick had stepped over the line by bunching a guy at the crime scene. What was Nick going to do now that Greg's life hung in the balance? He made a mental promise to keep an eye on the young investigator. Things were not going to be so easy for the next few days. He was not a praying man but that didn't stop him from hoping with all his heart that Greg would wake up and beat the odds. He knew that Greg was a fighter, they all knew that. But a forty percent chance meant that Greg had a shit load of fighting to do and his body was weakened…

Grissom closed his eyes, letting his mind go. He kept thinking about how one minor change in the conversation, one minor movement could have changed the outcome. Life was full of ifs and it was pointless to dwell on things that he couldn't change. The shooting happened. He was displeased, pissed, that one of his team members was in the hospital. And the fact that it was Greg made the guilt even worse. He was the one that had okayed Greg's move into the field and look what had happened to the younger man. He'd been beaten and now he was fighting to stay alive. Maybe it would have been better had he left Greg in the lab but as he'd said before, he admired Greg's spirit. He sighed, massaging his temples.

"How is he?" Brass asked softly as he drew upon the night shift supervisor.

Grissom looked up at his friend. "Not good. The doctor doesn't give him a good chance of survival."

"I knew it was bad but didn't realize that it was _that_ bad," said Brass as he settled into the chair to Grissom's left.

"Yeah," muttered Grissom. Here he was sitting beside the detective that he'd worked with for years, a man that had survived being shot. If he recalled correctly the doctors had given Brass a better chance of life than Greg. He quickly filled Brass in on the diagnosis for Greg.

Brass shook his head. "Shit."

"You get anything at the scene?"

"The members of the day shift found some tire tracks, a casing shelf and a few pieces of some cloth," the detective replied. "When I was leaving they were running the stuff back to the lab. I talked with Sofia and she says that swing shift is working hard on the evidence gathered from the car. Everybody is hoping Greg will pull through."

Then Grissom voiced what he knew they were both thinking. "What if he doesn't make it?"

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Nick couldn't sleep. He went home like Grissom told him to; he even showered and ate a few bites of breakfast before falling into bed. But three hours had passed since his head hit the pillow and all he'd done was stare at the wall or the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Greg covered in blood, and even though he hadn't been at the accident it was more than enough to send his heart racing and bring tears to his eyes. He wanted to get out of bed, head to the hospital and sit beside Greg's bed until he woke up but he knew that Grissom would have none of it. There was a job to be done and none of them would give up until the guy was behind bars. As he rolled onto his side he tried to think of what the future held, what he wanted to do with Greg when the winter rolled around. He thought about taking a big step and bringing Greg home to meet his family around the holidays. He'd been keeping his lover a secret for a long time and his mother was getting antsy to meet the person that made him so happy. He wanted her to have the chance to meet the man that put a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

But a dark cloud looming near the horizon had him worried.

He threw the covers off the bed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side. He hung his head, bringing his hands up as he started to cry. The guilt was beginning to eat away at him. Why had he stayed at the lab instead of going after Greg? Why had he let things get to this point? He should have told the others about seeing the killer, maybe then none of this would have happened. Once again he'd made a mistake in his life that had serious consequences. And there was nothing he could do to change them. Sure, he could see the sketch artist and have a picture made. They could catch the bad guy and throw him behind bars. But none of that would guarantee that Greg lived.

There was a knock at his front door.

He looked up, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand. Looking over at the clock he saw that it was nearing noon and he still hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He was going to be running on an empty battery when his shift wound around but he didn't care. Throwing on a t-shirt he headed for the front door. Turning the lock he grasped the knob and opened the door. Standing on his front step with a bag in his hand was Grissom. Nick was taken aback. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever seen his boss outside of work. And if he remembered correctly Grissom had never been by his house before, not that it would hard for his boss to get his address.

"Grissom…" he said, his voice shaking a slight bit.

"May I come in Nick?"

"Uh, sure," Nick said, stepping back to let Grissom enter. "Is Greg okay…?" He closed the door, making sure to turn the lock.

Grissom headed straight for the kitchen with the bag. "Nothing's changed, if that's what you mean. He's still on the respirator and still unconscious. His vital stats haven't improved but they haven't gotten worse, either."

"I guess that's good," Nick said, his voice nearly a whisper. He collapsed on the couch as he listened to Grissom root around in the kitchen. He had a vague idea what his boss was up to but he didn't care or mind. He was actually quite thankful for the company. After a few minutes Grissom came out of the kitchen with two plates of food. He handed one to Nick.

"You need to eat," he said.

"Thank you, the gesture is kind, but I'm not much for eating," remarked Nick.

"You have to eat, Nick," Grissom said. He poked at his plate with a fork. "Making yourself sick won't help Greg get better. You can't punish the world by punishing yourself. It doesn't work that way. By not eating you're going to weaken your body and I'll be forced to put you on leave, do you want that?"

Nick reluctantly picked up the plate. "No," he said. He picked at the food, at fist only eating a few small bites. They spent the next few minutes eating in peace. Each bite, each mouthful made Nick realize just how hungry he was and it wasn't long before he polished off his lunch. He thanked Grissom for the food. Without saying anything Grissom took both plates back to the kitchen and a second later Nick heard the sound of water as Grissom washed the dishes. This time when his boss came out of the kitchen he was drying his hands with a towel.

Once again he settled on the couch beside Nick. "I wanted a chance to talk to you," he said.

"About?"

"You and Greg."

Nick's heart skipped a beat. "What about us?"

"I just…" Grissom was never good when it came to expressing his feelings. Sara often told him that he needed to be more human and less of a scientist but he understood science easier than he did human emotion. "These days love is more important than ever. There's too much hate and death. I support the choice that you and Greg have made but I wanted to warn you to be careful. Don't let your love for him drive you over the edge on this case. Don't go getting yourself hurt, Nick. He wouldn't want that."

Nick listened in silence, his heart beating erratically. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Grissom knew all about his relationship with Greg. Where had they slipped up? What had been their downfall? Was it a gesture, a simple word? As freaked as he was to learn that his boss was aware of their love he was just as equally relieved. At least he wouldn't have to hide his true emotions from one person; at least someone would truly understand why he was falling apart piece by piece. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I…Greg…."

Grissom placed a hand on Nick's shoulder. "It's alright, Nick. I understand the need to find someone who understands the rigors of the job. I'm just surprised I didn't see this earlier. I mean, the way you and Greg used to act when he worked the lab. The way you worried when he started in the field. All the signs were there and I guess I just ignored them. Makes me wonder what else I've missed over the years."

"You aren't…bothered by our…?"

"No," Grissom shook his head. "There is still a lot of hate going around when it comes to same sex couples but progress is being made. Science has proven that people aren't made gay or bi, they're born that way. It's all about genetics. There's nothing wrong with your or Greg. You love each other and the fact that you found that love is a reason to celebrate."

Nick tried to smile but it just brought tears to his eyes.

"It'll be alright, Nick. He'll pull through. He's a fighter."


	10. Too Good is True

**Title: **Take Me There

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Too Good is True**

_I guess it's cause and effect, Your heart and mine, The way that we connect, Keeps blowing my mind, There you go again, it never ends, What you do to me…_

The others slept restlessly through the day, their dreams occupied by Greg. By the time they all turned up at work for their shift there was evidence that none of them would be running in top form. They met in the crime lab's break room, each one of them nursing a cup of coffee in an attempt to jumpstart their brains. They made idle small talk as they waited for everyone to show up. Nick walked into the room with his eyes averted, leaving the coffee alone to lean against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Grissom followed him a few minutes later, paperwork in hands. They waited silently as Grissom read over whatever it was that kept his attention.

Sara was the first one to break the silence. "So are we going to sit here all damn night or are we going to do something about catching the fucker that put Greg in the hospital?"

Catherine, her hands wrapped around her mug, looked up at Sara. "How do you manage to have such energy? Where do you get that attitude? I'd really like to know because I think Lindsay is starting to develop the same thing."

Sara glared at her and sipped her coffee.

"The tire marks were traced back to a truck, though they were unable to pinpoint the exact model. Looks like a pick-up truck," Grissom said.

"Fits the angle of the landscaper," mused Warrick.

Grissom looked up. "What landscaper?" He listened quietly as they filled him in on their idea, their theory. He chewed it over before saying, "The only problem I have with that is that neither house looked to have had anything done to their yards. There were no fancy trees or flowers, no grass yards. Why would they contact a landscaper?"

"Maybe they were going to get something done," said Sara with a shrug of her shoulders. "Perhaps the guy killed them before doing the work. He could have taken their money and decided he no longer wanted to do the work, so he killed them instead of giving back the money or risking court."

"It's a good theory but not solid," Grissom stated. He held up a piece of paper. "The shell casing is a regular nine-millimeter, without a bullet we can't go anything further. Who wants the task of going over the SUV? Nobody had time to get to it during the day." Sara said she'd take the job. Grissom moved on. "We need someone to check out some fibers found at the scene. Much like the t-shirt fibers but there's something wrong with the chemical dye. It should make it easier to track down. There's leg work involved in this one." Warrick took it, muttering something about getting out of the lab for the evening. "Catherine, I want you to go back to the second house and check the backyard and the kitchen. Nick says that he believe the guy came from the pantry. Have a look inside, see what you can get."

They stood, one by one putting their cups in the sink to wash later when there was a lull in the work. "How was Greg when you called the hospital?" Nick asked the first he'd spoken since entering the room.

"His vital stats have improved a little but the doctors are still weary," Grissom said honestly.

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They planned to meet back at Grissom's office after a few hours of work to see where they stood. Those hours passed rather quickly and before they all knew it was time to see if they'd made any headway on the case. They arrived at Grissom's office in pairs finding their boss and Brass inside. Nick was oddly vacant and Grissom chose to start the meeting without him, not even offering up an explanation as to where the missing investigator was; he didn't even seem worried that Nick was not in the room. He looked at them with expectant faces, hoping for something, anything.

Sara smiled. "I managed to find the second bullet, the one that tore through the car after you pulled Greg out. I'm running it through the database as we speak. I think we might get a hit on something. The bullet was relatively intact and clean."

Catherine went next. "I found hair in the pantry and had it tested. Sadly it wasn't human but the fact that it was dog hair is important. Neither family had a dog and there wasn't any hair in the rest of the residence. I tested it to find out what breed it came from and turns out that we're looking for a rare breed called a Pharaoh Hound."

"Rare dogs are easier to track," Grissom said, moving on to Warrick.

The investigator shrugged. "Even with the messed-up chemical dye I got nowhere. After contacting the company I learned that the shirts were sent to seventeen stores. Over two hundred of the shirts were sold before they were pulled off the shelves. They did end up with lawsuits and I had them fax me over the names of the people with lawsuits. I was going to see if I could borrow Brass and start checking on the people that lived in the state."

"Good idea," Grissom said. "I want you to give half the list to Nick."

"Where is Nick?" Sara asked.

"I sent him to the hospital," Grissom said, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk. "The doctors called about an hour ago…"

"And?" Catherine pushed.

"The improvement that he was making earlier in the day seems to have changed courses," Grissom said. "His vital stats are back to where they were. The doctors are worried that he may not make it to the morning. I wanted one of us to be there…in case. His family has been contacted but they are unable to get here until tomorrow afternoon."

"What has he been doing all day, hanging out at the hospital?" Catherine asked a touch of distaste in her voice.

Grissom looked at her, his lips set in a grim line. "He met with the sketch artist, which is another reason we all needed to get together. I wanted to hand each of you a copy of the sketch. It'll be hitting the news before too long and we already have people waiting to answer phones and take down tips. Nick only went to the hospital after he sat with the artist. I want to keep him out of the field for the most part; it's not that safe for him. Warrick, you're going to give him the names of the people that are out of the state. He can make calls and check records."

They left the office, each of them headed back to their respective destinations. Another hour passed in which they made no headway. The bullet didn't match any in the database and Warrick was quickly getting nowhere with interviewing people. None of them even remotely matched the sketch that had been passed around. All the news channels in the state were running the picture and asking people to call in with any information that they might have but so far nothing had proven to be substantial. Grissom was beginning to think that they may never find the man responsible for the deaths and for the shooting of Greg. He knew that it wasn't like him to give up hope on a case but he knew well enough that sometimes cases went cold for months, even years before they were solved by fresh eyes. With luck that wouldn't happen this time. He wanted to be able to tell Greg that the man who shot him was behind bars. He wanted to talk to Greg about returning to the field or to the lab; wherever he felt most comfortable. He just wanted to know that Greg would be okay. But every time he called the hospital for an update nothing had changed. Aside from that momentary improvement Greg wasn't showing any signs of getting better.

Near the end of shift Grissom decided that he needed to go for a drive. He wanted to get away from the lab to give himself a new perspective. He was hoping that getting away from the evidence and the constant talk of the whole thing would help clear his mind and allow him to focus better. He drove to a diner where he ordered a cup of coffee and sat there, his mind going over every little detail to see if by chance one of his team members had missed something. They were good at what they did but even the best could miss little details. It happened. But no matter what angle he approached the case he could find no new theories, nothing they had missed. As the sun broke over the horizon his cell phone began to chirp. A feeling of dread passed over him as he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

The number belonged to Warrick. "Grissom," he answered. He listened as Warrick outlined the current situation. He and Brass had stumbled across a house where the door had been open a fraction of an inch. Upon further investigation they had found two bodies inside; one of a man missing his finger and the other of a dog that Warrick assumed was the one Catherine had mentioned. When asked how long the man had been dead Warrick estimated about three weeks to a month. With the finding of a new crime scene only a few questions had been answered and even more were popping up. There were no similarities between the new scene and the two farmhouses. This house was in town and belonged to a bachelor, not a family. This victim had a pet when all the others didn't. Grissom was finding it hard to believe that the same person had committed the three crimes but he didn't voice his doubts out loud to Warrick. There wasn't time. His phone was beeping, alerting him to an incoming call.

And when he hung up with Warrick he found that it was the hospital calling. He felt a lead weight in his stomach as he listened to the doctor. They were going to have to remove the bullet. It had shifted in the last few hours and was in threat of putting unneeded pressure on the spinal cord. Grissom knew that problems with the spinal cord and the surrounding fluid could cause problems with the rest of the body, especially the brain. The bullet would fuck up the flow of the fluid and could in turn have an ill effect on the intracranial blood flow. Greg's parents were not yet in town and proved to be unreachable. That left the go ahead for surgery up to Grissom. He knew that there was a great risk of Greg dying on the operating table from the stress placed on his symptom but he had no other choice. He gave the doctor the okay to perform the surgery, making sure that the bullet would not be touched by anyone not wearing gloves and placed into a sealed container for him to retrieve. As he closed his phone he found that he questioned his choice to have the surgery done. He never doubted himself. But now he wasn't sure that sending Greg back under the knife was such a good idea.


	11. Love You Out Loud

**Title: **Take Me There

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Love You Out Loud**

_I've always been a little shy, I've always been the quiet type till now, And I never let my feelings show, I never let anybody know, Just how much I was so deep in love…_

It was another restless day for Nick. After the discovery of the new crime scene, which proved to be older than the other two, he'd been sent home. He couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing. He'd been called out to the scene to help collect evidence while working overtime. But he'd made a mistake and Catherine told him to leave. He had wanted to protest, to remain at the scene to do his job. However he knew that he risked ruining what could possibly be a vital piece of evidence. The last thing he wanted was for his incompetence to let Greg's shooter get away. He would never be able to live with himself if that happened. He rolled to his side only to have to roll onto his back and onto his other side. He couldn't look at the empty side of the bed. That's why he couldn't sleep. He couldn't recall the last time he'd spent more than a day sleeping in a bed by himself. He was used to having Greg's warm body within easy reach. Now when the nightmares got so bad and he awoke there wasn't anyone there to comfort him.

Nick threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. He still had a few hours before he was due at work. There was time to kill and no one to keep him busy. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, troubled sigh. This was the last thing he needed in his life. It seemed that every few years he would be left to deal with another tragedy in his life, another dark blot that he'd spend the rest of his life trying to forget. Though he tried to act like everything was okay Greg remained the only one who knew just how fucked up he really was. He'd been sent to see a psychiatrist shortly after they find him but after talking to her he still didn't understand why _he_ had been buried alive. Where in his life did he fuck up? Where did he take a wrong turn that led him down the path he was currently headed? He knew that each one of them had a reason for doing the job that they did but he wasn't sure he really understood why he did it. The murder, the abuse, the hatred; it kept his dark past fresh in his mind. For someone who wanted to forget about the past he'd found an odd way to hang on to it.

He hung his head between his hands, his eyes closed. What was he supposed to do with his life? Was he supposed to give up the fight and let the world win? That thought often crossed his mind. For a while things would go fine, those were the times he even claimed to be happy, and then bam, the shit hit the fan. He would finally be starting to feel solid ground beneath his feet and the world would shift, knocking him off balance. Over and over again he felt like he was being pushed toward the edge by forces he had no control over. Sometimes the world around him got so dark that the only person that could reach him was Greg. How he managed to keep all of his troubled thoughts and dark days from the people he worked with still baffled him. They should have seen it all clear as day. They should be standing by his bedside telling him that everything would be okay. Instead they were probably at their homes catching much needed rest. He felt like he was screaming out loud nearly every day of his life but they couldn't hear him.

And now when he needed someone most there was no one there for him.

He felt the tears sliding down his cheeks. There was nobody there to wipe them away, nobody to offer him a kind word or comforting hand. How was he going to get through this tough time without Greg? How was he going to last until his lover came back to him?

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On his way to work he swung by the hospital. Surprisingly he was the only one there to see Greg. He didn't see Grissom or Brass or Catherine. He didn't even see Greg's family. It made him feel sick to think that Greg had spent the entire day by himself. It didn't matter to him that Greg was currently unconscious and wouldn't know one way or the other. Someone should have been waiting by his bed incase he did wake up. There would be questions to answers, fears to put to rest. But nobody was there and he felt a slight bit angered by that. They were supposed to care about Greg. He was part of their team, part of their family. How could they abandon him in his time of need? He pushed open the door to the room, stepping inside. He heard the doctor's words once again, those empty words that told him nothing had changed, that the prognosis was still shitty. He took hold of the only chair in the room and pulled it across the floor until it was closer to the bed. He sat in it, taking Greg's hand in his. He let his thumb trace little circles on the back of Greg's hand as he tried not to look at the ring. His gift to Greg. He wore a matching one around his neck on a chain but he was thinking now would be the time to wear it on his finger, let Greg know just how much he loved him.

He wouldn't care what the others had to say. Their words meant nothing to him.

"I can't sleep, Greg," he said, his voice hushed. "Every time I close my eyes I see those few minutes again, in complete clarity. I see Sofia coming into the room to tell us that we needed to go to the hospital. I remember falling to my knees when I realized that you'd been hurt. Only, I didn't know it was so bad. I figured you get some stitches, be here for a day or two and then be back at home. See, I was already planning on taking care of you. But…you haven't opened those beautiful eyes of yours. The doctor is really worried, Greg-o. He says that your chances aren't good. He said that when he went in to get that bullet that your kidney wasn't healing like it should be. Come on, Greggie, you can't let this happen. You are a fighter. I know that you can pull through this. Please," he choked up, the tears marring his cheeks once again. He closed his eyes and thought about all the times that Greg made him smile, all the times he'd made him laugh. Even when he was just a lab rat he'd been the bright light in the ever darkening night.

His phone rang, scaring him and causing him to jump. He took the damned contraption from the holder on his hip and looked at the screen. Caller ID told him that it was Grissom calling. He ignored the call, sliding the phone back into the holder. There was at least another hour before he was due at the lab and he planned to hang out at the hospital as long as he could. He wasn't ready to spend even more time away from Greg. He stayed the hour, not talking, not even sure he could get out another word. As they clock hit the top of the hour his phone rang again. He knew that it was Grissom calling, not bothering to check. He stood, looking down at Greg.

"I love you, Greg," he said. "I've loved you for so long and I'm not ready to stop loving you. You have to get better. I'd shout out my love for you to the world if it meant you'd wake up." He bent down and kissed Greg on the cheek. "Please get better."

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Nick placed the few objects in his locker before closing the door and sinking onto the wooden bench that stretched between the metal walls. As usual the locker room was kind of dark, like his mood, and he found the silence comforting and upsetting at the same time. Yet he wasn't ready to face his friends. He didn't know what to say to any of them. Surely they realized by now that he was taking Greg's accident harder than the rest of them. He knew that they cared but they didn't love Greg the way he did. They didn't know everything there was to know about the former lab geek. He wanted to share with them the little things, the secrets that made Greg smile. He wanted them to know how much Greg did for him but he knew that he wasn't going to say a word. He couldn't. A while ago they had talked about making their relationship known to their friends and had decided that when the time came it would be a mutual thing. He couldn't just let that slide. If he was going to tell them all then Greg had to be at his side. It didn't matter to him that Grissom already knew. The older man would keep it between the two of them. He could be so oblivious to human feelings but surprisingly caring at the same time. Needless to say Nick had been baffled by his boss numerous times but he cared for the man and knew that he could trust him to do what was right.

The door to the locker room opened. "There you are," Warrick said as he walked toward his locker. He pulled open the door. "Grissom's been looking for you, I take it. He just stopped me in the hall asking if I had seen you. There something he needs you for?"

Nick looked up. He'd been staring at the floor. "Catherine probably mentioned how I was at the crime scene."

"I never thought of that," Warrick said as he placed something on the shelf in his locker. "Well, it's not like he can fire you or pull you off the case. The whole lab is trying to track the son of a bitch down. Nobody gets away with putting one of our own in the hospital." He closed the locker door. He headed for the exit. "If I were you, I wouldn't hang out in here for too long. Just get it out of the way and go one with your day."

"Yeah," Nick said as Warrick left the locker room.

Warrick was right; they couldn't pull him off the case and put him on another one. But they could force him to take a temporary leave of absence. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with. All that time alone would surely drive him right off the edge. There would be too much time to think about things he'd rather not focus on. Sighing, figuring he should track down Grissom, he stood just as the door opened again. He turned, expecting to see Warrick but instead he found Grissom.

"I was just coming to find you," he remarked.

"Warrick told me you were in here," Grissom said. He made no attempt to move away from the door, blocking the exit and dashing Nick's hope for a quick escape. For some reason he was feeling a little leery of his boss.

"Look, if this about the crime scene, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm letting my personal life get in the way of my job and I promise that it won't happen again."

"Aren't you hot?" Grissom asked. "It's going to be eighty degrees and you're wearing long sleeves."

Nick looked down at his shirt. He shrugged. "Figured it wouldn't matter."

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Grissom pushed.

"No," Nick said.

Grissom sighed. "Nick, I'll tell you the same thing I told Greg; I can't help you unless I know what's wrong. The two of you had something going on and it's hard to see him in that hospital bed; I know that. But there's something more…something I can't put my finger."

Nick forced himself to smile. "I'm fine," he lied.

Grissom only shook his head before turning and leaving without saying anything else. Nick watched him go. His boss had finally reached out to him and he'd pushed him away. His cries for help were finally answered and he denied them, denied that he even needed help. The only person that he wanted to find comfort in was Greg. He rested his forehead against the cool metal of the locker, gathering his thoughts. There was work to be done. Another night of chances to catch the murderous bastard that hurt his lover. And he was going to be damned if anyone got in the way of his job.


	12. Like I Am

**Title: **Take Me There**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Like I Am**

_I'll never understand, I don't think I'll ever understand, Why you love me, Why you love me like I am…_

The sirens ripped through the night air, slicing through the silence like a hot knife through butter. A street, once dark and quiet, it's occupants sound asleep, become a circus of police and other law enforcement personal in less than fifteen minutes. Squad cars pulled up in front of a house, their lights coloring the night sky in awash of red and blue. The neighbors were rudely wakened from their dreams and peaceful slumber, grabbing bathrobes and stumbling out front doors to see what all the commotion was about. Some were complaining about the fact that they weren't going to get enough sleep for work the next day. Others were holding each other, the recent news stories about murders fresh in their minds. This had been a peaceful suburb, never even so much as experiencing a burglary or vandalism. This was the model town seen only on TV and in movies, the neighborhood where the neighbors were always willing to lend a helping hand, never asking questions. Without the fear of violence people forgot to lock their doors at night, believing that they would be safe, believing that nothing horrible could ever happen to them. Outside lights were never left on; windows always left open, cars left unlocked. It was like going back a few decades to a time when crime wasn't so prevalent. And that's what made it a perfect target to a murderer.

Brass directed his men to enter the house with caution, warning them that the murderer may still be inside, though he knew for a fact that the guy wasn't. His gut told him that this crime would be linked to the two farmhouses and the place with the dog. There was little doubt in his mind that the family that had been sleeping, oblivious to the world, had been killed, every last member. He could already see the blood stained carpets and the spattering on the walls in his mind. He opted to stay outside and wait for Grissom and company to show up before venturing over the threshold. It wasn't that he was afraid, far from it, he was pissed that it had happened again. But going into the house wouldn't make the deaths go away and the officers were capable of clearing the place without him. So he remained on the front lawn as he watched a handful of officers string up the yellow crime tape, keeping the neighbors at bay. Before too long the great American spectators would be joined by news crews and somebody would have to place a call out to the sheriff.

A man that was already pissed off because someone had leaked the story to the media.

Brass had no idea who was behind the leak but he'd like to find the person. They'd been trying like hell to keep most of the reports from hitting the airwaves and the newspapers. They didn't want people to panic. The only thing that got out into the paper was the murder of the first family and the finding of the man with the dog. Somehow they had managed to keep the second murder house from reaching the news. A blessing in disguise, or so they all thought. Now he wasn't so sure keeping it a secret was such a good idea. The sheriff was putting a lot of pressure on him to find the culprit and lock him up, a lot of unneeded pressure. And though he was unhappy to learn that within his ranks or the labs there was a leak he couldn't help but wonder if the latest victims could have been saved. If they had known the police were looking for a serial killer maybe this neighborhood would have locked its doors, would have made sure that its children were safe.

But now it was too late.

Brass, standing in the middle of the front yard, the star-filled sky above him, vowed right then and there that he was going to find the man responsible before it could happen again. He'd work himself to death. He had seen his fair share of serial killers; the Miniature Killer, the Blue Paint Killer, to name a few. But never one that had been so cold, so cruel, so heartless. What drove a person to break into someone's house and slaughter an entire family while they slept? What drove the killer to commit his crimes? He'd been hoping that the guys in the lab would tell him something, anything, about the mind of the man they were looking for but they were having just as rough a time as he was. He worried that if they didn't catch the man soon they'd all be looking for new jobs. The sheriff was that pissed. And the mayor wasn't any better. The city of Las Vegas was starting to lose money, not enough that it really mattered but there was already a visible decline in the number of tourists at the airport; even though tourists weren't the victims. Nobody wanted to spend their vacation time in the home of a serial killer.

Someone shouted the all clear signal. Brass turned in time to watch an officer stumble out of the house, falling to his knees in the yard and vomiting. He looked away knowing that Grissom was not going to be so happy to find his crime scene contaminated. There was nothing the detective could do about it though, and if this house was anything like the others he couldn't blame the man. It took a strong stomach to walk in and out of a slaughter house. At least he didn't have to work in it for hours like the lab crew. He did not envy them this night. Thinking about Grissom's unhappy mood made him look around at the vehicles. The lab's SUV was not in sight. He was about to place a call to the night shift supervisor when he saw the dark colored vehicle pull up in front of the driveway. He headed in their direction as a second, identical vehicle, pulled alongside. The entire team would be working the one scene.

Grissom climbed out of the first car, Catherine and Sara following him. Nick and Warrick climbed out of the second SUV, Nick heading toward the back for the crime kits. Normally people smiled when they saw a friend, offered a pleasant greeting, maybe even hugged or shook hands. But this was not the time nor the place for friendships.

Brass, grim faced, stopped at the curb, the police tape between him and the crime team. "Officer lost his lunch off to the right of the front door," he said, deciding it best to just get it out of the way.

"My crime scene-"

"Nothing I can do about it, Gil," Brass said. "My guess is that it's pretty bad in there. Haven't been in myself, thought I'd wait for you to show up and we could go through together."

Grissom nodded. Brass noticed that there was a fire in the man's eyes, a drive to put an end to the senseless killing. The group of them headed toward the house, Nick and Warrick staying behind at the vehicles to get the equipment ready. They had no way of knowing just what they were going to need. Grissom and Catherine went into the house with Brass. Sara decided to take an officer around back with her, looking for any clues the perpetrator might have left behind during the getaway. Inside the place was just as bad as Brass had thought it would be. There was blood everywhere, the position of the bodies leaving him to believe that they died in their sleep, unaware of what was happening. He prayed that someday he'd die the same way. He'd been shot not too long ago and there was too much pain in going down that way. Going in his sleep, unaware it was happening, sounded kind of nice. However, being a victim of murder didn't hold the same ring. He listened as Grissom and Catherine talked, pointing out little indisrcepancies to each other. After a quick but thorough walkthrough they headed back outside to gather their gear.

Only to find Warrick and Nick arguing with one another.

Grissom headed straight for them at a good clip, Catherine right behind him. The commotion brought Sara back to the front yard but she remained standing by Brass near the front door. Whatever the two scientists had disagreed on was none of her business. She'd let the two in charge handle the situation, then tell them what she'd come across on the back patio. Grissom walked between the two investigators, pushing them apart. He ordered Catherine to take Warrick toward the house and to talk to him. He'd speak with Nick. Once alone Grissom moved them to a section of the yard where they would not be overheard by anyone or even seen all that clearly.

"What is going on Nick? We are at a crime scene, this sort of behavior…this is going to get back to Ecklie, you know," Grissom said. "What the hell was going through your head?"

"Don't blame this on me, Grissom. Warrick was the one that started the whole thing. The guy just doesn't know when to leave well enough alone," Nick remarked. "He keeps pushing and pushing…"

"What happened?"

Nick looked away, not able to look his boss in the eye. Grissom frowned. Something about Nick's behavior wasn't right, something was off. Then it hit him. The shirt; the long-sleeved shirt that Nick had chosen to wear. It wasn't right for the weather and now that he looked at it he could tell that one of the sleeves had previously been pulled up. Without wasting another second he reached out and took firm hold of Nick's wrist, pulling up the sleeve of the shirt. There, freshly marring the skin along his arm, were three slash marks. Grissom could not believe what he was seeing. Nick pulled his arm away, pushing the sleeve back down.

"Nick…"

Nick turned away, ashamed.

"Nicky, this…" Grissom was at a loss for words. He knew that Nick had suffered a lot and he also knew that things were bad under the current conditions. He just never realized that they were _that_ bad. "Why?" was all he could think to say.

But Nick didn't answer. Instead he turned and headed toward the cars. Catherine tried to stop him with Brass's help but Nick was able to get in and drive away. And Grissom stood there, not knowing what to do. Not knowing how he could help.


	13. You

**Title: **Take Me There**

* * *

**

**Chapter Thirteen: You**

_Every road that I've been down, The only truth that I have found, There's only one thing I can't live without, You…_

He headed for the hospital but visiting hours were over, leaving him with nothing to do. He couldn't believe that he'd just up and walked away from a crime scene. He wasn't worried about having to face Grissom; his boss had to understand to some degree the pain that he was going through. But Ecklie and the sheriff, neither one of them would understand without having all the details and Nick couldn't tell them. He wasn't going to go back on his word to Greg. Since he couldn't stay at the hospital and he was too afraid to return to the crime scene he decided to just drive around the town for a few hours while he tried to clear his head. There were going to be a lot of questions to answer when he did get back, questions that he wasn't even sure he wanted to try answering. It was one thing for Grissom to know about his troubles, but the others…it didn't sit too well with him, the fact that they were going to know. He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand as he stopped at a red light. How could he be so damned stupid? What had driven him to grab that knife out of the kitchen door and drag it along his arm? There had never been a time in his life when he'd hit rock bottom and he wasn't completely sure he was there now. But he felt the need to cut his arm and then didn't even really try to cover it up. He may have worn the long-sleeved shirt but that only drew attention to him. And he could have bandaged the cuts, lied that he'd fucked up his arm while working outside in the yard. That was a believable story. Nevada had tons of prickly plants that could easily slice through skin. He did nothing. He cleaned them and headed out for work.

The light turned green and he eased through the intersection, no particular destination on his mind. As he drove he thought about Greg and how much he wished the goofy lab tech was sitting beside him. After going into the field there had been a slight change to Greg's attitude, and while that was understandable, he couldn't help but miss the wisecracking lab geek that Greg had been when they first met. Things changed. He turned down a side street and passed by a few small businesses that were closed for the night before finding an open convenience store. The lights were ablaze in the parking lot and he pulled in, taking a spot and killing the engine. However, he made no attempt to get out of the car. He just wanted to be somewhere with people so that he wouldn't do anything stupid. He watched the few late night shoppers and a group of kids, his eyes seeing things that his brain wasn't picking up, his thoughts centered on Greg. Finally he looked away, let his eyes go unfocused. The dark closed in around him, suffocating him. He flipped on the dome light, the light doing little to fill the car, creating shadows throughout the interior. Pulling up his sleeve he ran a finger along one of the three red lines. It still stung, still burned. And he felt this desire somewhere deep inside to do it again.

Someone tapped on the passenger side window before opening the door. Nick's hand instinctively went to his hip, his fingers brushing the holstered gun. Then he saw that it was Grissom. He looked away, watching a police cruiser pull out of the parking lot and back into the flow of traffic.

"Did you forget that all of the lab's vehicles have low-jack?" Grissom asked his voice oddly hushed. "Or did it not matter?"

"Didn't matter," replied Nick. He still wouldn't look in Grissom's direction.

"I don't know what to do, Nick," Grissom admitted. "I don't know how I can help you because…because you won't let me help you. You won't tell me why…"

"Does it matter?" Nick asked, throwing Grissom's words back at him.

"When one of my team members, one of my friends, is hurting themselves? It does matter," stated Grissom. "Have you thought about how Greg would handle this? How he would take to hearing that you cut yourself?"

"Stop talking about him like he's just a phone call away," snapped Nick. "The fact that he's lying in that hospital bed doesn't seem to be affecting any of you. I seem to be the only one that's struggling with this…"

Grissom shifted his weight. He wasn't really used to conversations like this. "That's because you love him intimately. To the rest of us he's a great friend, a good man, and an excellent scientist. But we can't even begin to know him the way that you do. I'm sorry that you think we aren't suffering, Nick. But the team is missing a member and we all feel it."

Nick ran a slightly trembling hand through his hair before finally turning to look at Grissom. There were fresh tears in his eyes, he could feel them but he wasn't about to let them fall. It wasn't a matter of pride; his boss had seen him cry before. He was tired of crying. "Do the others….do they, uh, do they know?"

"If you mean by that, did I say anything? No," Grissom answered. "It's not my place to say anything. And as far as I know Warrick didn't tell Catherine or Sara why he was upset with you. That doesn't mean that you can let this slide, though. They're not really happy with you at the moment and you know as well as I do that they're going to want an explanation."

"I can't give them one," Nick said. "I don't even have one for myself."

"Nick, you aren't facing this alone. You never have to face these things alone," Grissom said.

Nick didn't say anything.

"Look, I followed you to check-up on you but…we think our guy may have finally slipped," Grissom stated. "And I thought that you'd want to be there when we raid the house."

"Are you kidding me?" Nick said, looking at his boss in disbelief. They were closing to nabbing the guy that had hurt Greg. "Of course I want to be there."

"Then let's get going. I'll call Catherine for directions."

Nick started the car, flipping off the dome light and backed out of the parking space. He was feeling a rush of emotions as he drove across the small parking lot. They were close to getting Greg's shooter and that excited him. He couldn't wait to go to the hospital and tell Greg the good news; maybe the positive vibes would finally wake up his lover. What he wouldn't give to see Greg smile, to look into his eyes once again. He'd even come clean about the cuts on his arms. He just wanted Greg to be okay. He was going to pull into traffic when Grissom surprised him.

"Next time you feel like….call me. Call anybody. Just don't hurt yourself again."

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Nick looked at the guy sitting at the table. He was gazing through a two-way mirror into an interrogation room where Brass was currently having a not-so-pleasant chat with the man they figured was responsible for all the deaths. Sara had stumbled across something in the backyard and had been about ready to let the others know when the fight between him and Warrick broke out. Turned out that she found the valuable piece of evidence that they had been searching for. It wasn't the weirdest thing any of them had seen left behind at a crime scene. Though it was funny when looked at from a different angle. But that's really an angle that Nick could get. Nick listened to Brass, asking questions and demanding answers. The guy wasn't denying that he'd been the serial murderer. He couldn't deny it. There was blood on his shirt, blood that would not doubt match one or two of the victims in the last house. To Nick it looked like the guy had gotten the urge to kill while on his commute home from work, picking a house at random. He used whatever weapon was available to him, whether it was a butcher's knife from the kitchen or a baseball bat from a child's closest, it didn't matter as long is it did the job he wanted. This time the killer had picked the wrong house, a home in the middle of a suburb. A neighbor returning home from a date that had lasted long spotted a shadowy figure lurking around. At first he was unsure of what he'd seen but then he heard the sound of breaking glass. After calling the cops he went around locking the doors to his house. And still, the killer managed to murder an entire family before the cops arrived, rushing out mere minutes seconds before they pulled up to the place.

But he'd been wearing a business suit.

He'd removed his jacket after the murder, dashing out the back door.

And dropped a business card on the patio.

It bore his name and his phone number. There were brown flecks on it that the lab was testing. They all knew that the tests would be positive for blood. They were hoping it would trace the guy to one or more of the other scenes. But now that they had him they could start making DNA and fingerprint matches, checking his schedule against the deaths. So far they hadn't been given any answers to the presence of the birch leaves or the soil. It was only a matter of time though, before the guy cracked and told them everything they wanted to know.

Nick felt a growing numbness in his stomach, a hatred that coursed through his body. He was finally looking at the man that had shot Greg and put him in the hospital. Brass hadn't said anything about the shooting of the officer to the suspect and likewise, the suspect not even hinting about it. That angered Nick even more. He remembered what Grissom had say about them all hurting but he didn't understand the lack of mentioning Greg. His anger began to make him feel hot under the collar and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A few minutes ago Grissom had excused himself to see how the tests were doing. Nick stood there; no one to voice is unhappiness to.

His chest began to feel tight.

He charged into the interrogation room, throwing open the door. He took both the suspect and Brass by surprise but he ignored the detective. Instead he went after other man, pulling him out of his chair by the collar of his shirt and throwing him back against the wall. The cuts along his arm burned, blood slipping from the reopened wounds. He placed an arm across the guy's throat and looked him in the eye.

"You almost killed my friend," he yelled. "You shot an officer of the law. He wasn't even doing anything but sitting in a car. But you saw fit to shoot him. Now he's fighting for his life in the hospital."

He heard someone yelling his name, felt hands on his waist. Then he was being pulled away, dragged from the room and though he wanted to fight the restraining pressure he went limp. He was thrust into another interrogation room and heard the door close behind him. He turned to find his boss looking at him, anger burning in his eyes.

"Keep it up and you'll be put on a leave of absence," Grissom snapped. "We do not attack people in our custody. That man has every right to bring a lawsuit against this lab now. Are you happy, Nick? Are you? Was it worth it?"

But Nick didn't say anything. He sank to his knees, his arms across his chest, as he began to cry. They finally had the guy that had shot Greg but he still didn't feel any better. His world was still missing a vital piece. There was a numbing ache in his heart. And he wanted nothing more to curl up next to Greg and drift away into another world.


	14. Falling Upside Down

**Title: **Take Me There**

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**Chapter Fourteen: Falling Upside Down**

_There's no gravity up here, It's kind of hard to explain, Every time I'm holding you, it's like backwards rain, You lift me up like a kite on a string, Like a bird on newfound wings, So high on you, I'm floating and flying around, Your love is like fallin' upside down…_

This time it wasn't Grissom who sent him home, it was Ecklie. The head of the crime lab got wind of what had happened from an unnamed source and was on the scene almost immediately. To say that he was pissed would have been an understatement. He yelled at Nick, telling him what a stupid mistake he'd made. Turned out that he was also aware of the other things that had been going on; the walking out on a crime scene, not keeping his head in the game. Ecklie warned him that one more mess up would mean suspension indefinitely. Nick didn't care. The lab wasn't the same without Greg. But Grissom stuck up for him, forcing Ecklie out of the room so that the two of them could talk without Nick overhearing. Not that Nick really cared. He remained sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. His hands were shaking. His chest ached and his head was throbbing. He kept thinking about how much had changed in the last few days, how much he'd lost and how much he could still lose. Greg's parents had finally gotten to town, or so he'd heard. They knew nothing about the relationship their son was having with him so he tried to stay away from the hospital when he figured they would be there. The last thing he wanted to do was give himself away.

But maybe it was too late for that.

In a moment of frustrated anger he hit the back of his head on the wall as he let out a strangled cry. He was falling apart piece by piece without the man he loved. He always knew that there was a chance something like this could happen but he'd hoped it would be him that ended up in the hospital. He couldn't deal with the thought of Greg never waking up, of never hearing his lover speak his name again. He let his eyes go unfocused as he turned his gaze toward the ceiling. Through the two-way mirrored he could hear Ecklie and Grissom arguing about him. He couldn't hear their exact words but it didn't matter to him. Now his problems were affecting the others, getting them in trouble. He thought about the cuts on his arm, realized that maybe there was an answer somewhere within them. How many cases had he worked where the victim previously self-harmed? How many more cases had he worked where the perpetrator had been the self-harmer? Was he going down a road that would lead to some really dark period of his life? Two months ago he'd stopped seeing his psychiatrist. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. What he needed was someone to talk to, someone that he would have to worry about leaking his secrets. But a recently scheduled appointment with a shrink would only add fuel to Ecklie's fire. He still wasn't sure if he was ready to let this job go.

He knew that he wasn't ready to let Greg go.

Finally he got up off the floor and headed toward the door. He could still hear the words that were flowing between Grissom and Ecklie. There was no surprise to find that his boss was sticking up for him while Ecklie wanted to ship him out as soon as possible. He pulled the door open, the conversation dying as he walked into the hallway. He saw Catherine and Sara and Warrick standing at the end of the hall. His friends, yet he didn't feel he could tell them anything about what he was going through. He turned his back on all of them, heading in the opposite direction. Grissom called his name.

He didn't stop.

He didn't look back.

Outside the night air was refreshing cool. Before too long the sun would cross the horizon and rise high in the sky. He would have to start another day without Greg by his side, try to sleep in a bed that felt too big and empty. Inhaling the scents of the desert he started toward his car. He was going to go to the hospital. This time he didn't care if they tried to turn him away because it was visiting hours. He had to see Greg; he would make them understand just how important it was. If they still denied him access he wasn't sure what he would do. Some deep feeling told him that if he didn't get the chance to Greg that he would do something to himself, something he might later regret.

He climbed into his car, started the engine and pulled out the parking lot. Behind him he left confused and concerned friends.

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After his departure Ecklie and Grissom continued to disagree on how to handle the situation. They very rarely, if ever, saw eye to eye on anything; why should Nick be any different? Ecklie really had nothing invested in the younger investigator but Grissom did. He also had faith that Nick would eventually find his way. Meanwhile, Catherine and Sara and Warrick were also discussing Nick. They'd left Brass to handle the suspect while they sat around in the break room trying to make sense out of the way Nick had been acting.

"Do you think he's had a mental break?" Sara asked almost nonchalantly. Of the three of them she felt that she knew Nick the best but even she couldn't pin point the cause of his recent behavior. "He has been through a lot lately. Maybe…"

"I wouldn't exactly say no," Warrick remarked. "After what I saw…he might be losing it a little. Maybe he would benefit from time off the job."

Catherine put down her bottle of water. "You'd think by his reaction that there was more going on between the two of them than friendship."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about?"

"You are not saying what I think you…" Warrick said, seeking clarification.

"Just think about it," Catherine continued. "They've always been really close friends. They play basketball together, constantly pick on each other, and they spend a lot of time together. Maybe over the years they've gone beyond friendship to find something else. I love Greg just like Nick does, they're both stand-up guys and I couldn't image life without them. I know you two feel the same way. Yet none of us are exhibiting the same frequency of emotions that Nick is. That, to me, says there's more to the story than we know."

"So you're saying Nick and Greg are in some sort of relationship?" Warrick asked still not believing what he was hearing.

"It's not like it would be a bad thing," Catherine said. "I have no problem with it."

"Neither do I," Warrick was quick to clarify.

Sara frowned. "Wouldn't we have noticed if something was going on between them? I mean, it is our job to notice the little details. And over the last few months I haven't really noticed anything that screams Greg and Nick are sleeping together."

"Who better to hide things than two crime scene investigators?" stated Catherine.

"She's go you there," said Warrick.

"Do you think Grissom knows?" inquired Sara, sipping from her can of soda. They spent the next few minutes speculating whether or not their boss was aware of anything going on between the scientists. Catherine kept quiet about the conversation she'd had with Grissom a few nights ago and Warrick kept to himself the cuts he'd seen on Nick's arm. He was still waiting for an explanation and until he had one he wasn't going to say anything to anyone.

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Nick drove straight to the hospital, parking in a spot close to the entrance. At this time of day it wasn't hard to find a good place. But it took him fifteen minutes to convince himself to get out of the car. He walked across the cool pavement with his hands shoved deep in the front pockets of his jeans. Before long the place would be swarming with people and Greg's parents would no doubt be back. He wanted to have a few words alone with the Greg, even if his lover wasn't able to hear him. There were things that he wanted to say, things that he needed to get off his chest. The electronic door opened before him and he stepped into the harsh white hospital. The nurse behind the counter looked up at him. She wasn't expecting anyone to come through the doors since visiting hours were over and there'd been no emergency calls. She was about to tell him that he had to leave when the doctor happened upon them. He took one look at Nick and forgot about the folder in his hands.

"Mr. Stokes, I was just going to call Dr. Grissom," the doctor said. "I think there's something you need to know."

Nick felt a flutter of panic in his chest. Greg…"Uh," his throat felt instantly dry. He licked his lips. "What is it?"

"Come with me," the doctor said. He followed the older man down the familiar hallway toward the room that had been Greg's. The doctor stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder before pushing the door open. Nick stepped into the room as Greg's eyes fluttered open. A wave of warmth washed over his body and he smiled for the first time in days, all the darkness fading away. The doctor closed the door softly behind him, leaving the two of them alone.

"Greggo," Nick said, walking toward the bed. He took hold of Greg's hand. "Man, you have no idea how happy I am to look into your eyes."

"Nicky," said Greg, his voice hushed and low, almost a whisper. He smiled faintly. "I feel like I got run over."

"Nah, just shot. You gave me a pretty big scare, man," Nick said, squeezing Greg's hand. "Don't ever do it again, okay?"

"I don't think…that will…be a problem," Greg said, his eyes fluttering shut for a few minutes. "I don't much like being shot."

Nick laughed. "Nobody does." He held firmly to his lover's hand knowing that whatever pain medication they had him on was going to whisk him away in a few minutes. He wanted to talk as much as possible. "There are so many things that I want to tell you, Greggie. So much shit has happened these last few days…I don't even know where to begin."

"Most people…they start at the…beginning," Greg said as he drifted even farther into the darkness.

"Maybe I will when you feel up for talking," Nick said. "I love you, Greg.

Greg smiled. "I love you too, Nick," he said before giving in and falling asleep.


	15. My Worst Fear

**Title: **Take Me There**  
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**Chapter Fifteen: My Worst Fear**

_All along I knew that there was something missing, And only one thing left to do, I had to leave behind this live that we'd been living, But the only thing that left was you…_

Nick felt wonderful, light and happy for the first time in days. When he left the hospital he went home with a smile on his face, a skip in his step. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel, a flag of hope waving in the wind. Maybe now he'd finally be able to get a few hours of rest. The idea appealed to him and as he hopped behind the wheel he thought of how nice it would be to wake-up and return to the hospital to see Greg again, to speak to him. He was eager to get home. His mother always complained that too much time passed while a person slept. He was hoping that time would fly while he was lying in his bed. Before too long Greg would be home and sleeping next to him. That thought sent a wave of warmth over his body. The idea of having Greg sleeping beside him again almost made it seem as though nothing awful had happened to begin with; almost. He didn't see the doctor after visiting with Greg so he hadn't been able to ask the man what he thought about Greg's recovery chances now. They had to have improved a great deal.

He stopped at a stop sign, waited a few minutes and pulled forward. He entertained the thought of calling Grissom to tell him the wonderful news but knowing his boss, Gil already knew. Grissom always had a way of knowing things. A few minutes later he pulled into his driveway. He shut off the engine and climbed out of the car, headed for the front door. Inside the place seemed quiet and lonely, just like it had every day since Greg had been admitted to the hospital. However Nick knew that it wouldn't be long before the place felt warm, like home again. All that was missing was Greg's presence. A little Greggie was all the place needed.

Walking toward the bathroom he began to remove his clothes, leaving them on the floor behind him. They'd be there when he was done showering and he could clean them up then. Right now he wanted to feel the soothing of warm water rushing over his body, cascading down his body and into the drain. He turned on the water, waited for it to warm up and stepped underneath the flow. It felt wonderful to him. He thought about Greg, pleasuring himself before shutting off the water. The sun was trying to peek through the curtains in his bedroom. He decided to forget about the trail of clothing, leave it until he'd gotten his rest, and fell into bed naked. As his head hit the pillow he thought of the events that took place last time he made the mistake of going to bed nude. He smiled, remembering the fun he'd had with Greg. Seconds later he was sound asleep, Greg starring in every one of his dreams.

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"From one crime scene right into another," he remarked. "I'm beginning to think that Las Vegas is hell on earth."

Catherine smiled at him. "You're just now getting to that point? All the lights and possibly of earning tons of money through gambling, it's all work of the devil, just a façade to cover up the real horrors of a city built on greed."

Nick looked at her in surprise. "Gees, Catherine, feeling a little down about Las Vegas today?"

"Tonight was supposed to be my night off," she said, pulling her crime kit out of the back of the company vehicle. "I was planning on spending it with Lindsay, catching a late movie, having dinner and letting the night take us where it wanted. I can't remember the last time I spent more than twenty minutes with my daughter." She started toward the building and he followed. "Instead of pizza and boy talk I'm looking into the death of a guy in seedy motel."

"Get it right," Nick said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are looking into the death of a guy without any pants, a missing finger and what Brass calls a really bad toupee at a seedy motel."

She looked back over her shoulder. "You seem in high spirits tonight. Would that have something to do with Greg finally waking up?"

"What, you're not happy?" he asked as they walked into the motel room. There may have been cops swarming the parking lot and knocking on the doors to other rooms but Brass was the only person in the crime scene. Nick grimaced. The place smelled like dirty socks and old cheese. His question went unanswered as Brass motioned toward the bathroom.

"Dead guy is in there."

"I'll take the body, you get the bed," Nick said, hightailing it toward the partially closed bathroom door.

"Thanks," Catherine called after him sarcastically. None of them liked to work the beds in a hotel because of the biologicals that could possibly be present. With Brass standing off to one side she donned a bar of rubber gloves and pulled back the bedspread. There was no point in waiting for the inevitable.

Nick pushed open the bathroom door to find the body of a man hanging over the tub, his head and hands submerged in water. At first glance it looked like the man had been drowned but he knew not to jump to conclusions. Grissom was always telling him to follow the evidence. In most self-drowning case the person would be fully in the tub, not hanging out of it like someone had thrust their head under water and held it there. He put his kit on the floor and donned a pair of rubber gloves. He hadn't seen the medical examiner's vehicle so he couldn't touch the body just yet but that didn't mean he couldn't check out the rest of the little room. He slipped a finger into the water to test the temperature. It was cold. Opening his kit he pulled out a small vial and dipped it into the bathtub to get a sample of the water. There was no telling what the lab might find in the water. After the body was removed he would have to sift through the water with a special net to see if he could get hair or anything else. Then he'd drain the tub; check the drain and the visible surface area.

He went to the sink. There was a small patch of blood along the lip. Three hairs were visible near the drain and it looked to him like someone had spit into the grungy porcelain vessel. He collected samples of everything. Next he checked the small trash can positioned near the toilet. There were a few pieces of used toilet paper in the bin. He bagged them with hopes of finding a source of DNA. Maybe one that would match the blood or the body. The toilet lid was down. He went over it with a small flashlight to make sure that if he opened it that he wouldn't be disturbing anything. He pulled the lid up.

"Hello," he said. An earring had settled on the bottom of the bowl. He looked at the body and back at the earring. "I don't suppose you were into wearing earrings shaped like pink high heels." He reached into the bowl for the earring, slipping it into a baggy, then placing it in his kit. Back by the bathroom door he could hear Catherine talking to Brass. Neither one of them sounded happy. He frowned. Maybe they had found something upsetting in the main portion of the motel room. There was only one way to find out.

He walked into the room, leaving the body and the bathroom behind. He stopped short. Grissom was standing in the doorway. Last time he'd seen his boss he'd been talking to Sara about a murder down on the Strip. What was he doing here? Then Nick was filled with a sudden feeling of dread. Greg. He began to slowly shake his head as thoughts of a dark nature filtered through his mind. Nothing could be wrong with Greg. He'd been fine just the day before. But Nick knew that the only reason for Grissom to show up at their scene was if something was wrong. And judging by the way that both Catherine and Brass were looking at him, not at Grissom, he knew that whatever it was it wasn't pleasant.

"Nick, I need you to come with me," Grissom said.

"No," Nick said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Nicky, please," Grissom said.

He could feel the tears trying to break free and though he knew that no one would think less of him for crying he tried to hold them in. Walking like a man about to meet his end on death row, Nick crossed through the small room toward the door. Grissom led him down the stairs and into the parking lot away from everyone else. Alone in the dark he felt even more choked up. Something was wrong. Something_serious_was wrong. He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to deflect whatever words that came from Grissom. He could already feel his heart breaking.

"The hospital called me," Grissom started.

But Nick was quick to interrupt. "No, I don't want to hear. He was fine…he was talking to me and…" The tears he'd been trying to hold in finally broke free. There was no shame in crying in front of Grissom, the man that knew just how much Greg meant to him.

"The doctor's fears have manifested," Grissom said. "The kidney that the bullet passed through…it didn't heal properly and it's shutting down. They've put him on a limited diet and they're monitoring him. Right now he doesn't need to be put on dialysis so there's still a chance…"

"How bad is it, Grissom?" Nick asked, searching for answers in his boss's eyes.

Grissom looked pretty grim. "Not good. His body…his system has already been taxed and this could make matters worse. He's in the intensive care unit until further notice and will be monitored around the clock, Nicky. You know the doctors will take good care of him. In the mean time, both Ecklie and I have decided that it's best if you have the rest of the night off. Go to the hospital, Nick. Go spend some time with him. I'm going to help Catherine with the scene."

Nick had nothing to say in return. He knew that it was a possibility that Greg's kidney would fail. The doctor had warned them about it. He just never thought that it would actually happen, especially after his last visit. He felt numb and disconnected. He felt like the ground beneath his feet was cracking and knew that it could give away completely at any moment. He bowed his head, crying, as the stars look on.


	16. Where You Are

**Title: **Take Me There

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**Chapter Sixteen: Where You Are**

_You're a waterfall washing over me, I'm a thirsty man let me drink you in, Well I'm on my way, You're a mountain top, When I reach for you, your love lifts me up, All I want to be is where you are…_

"What was that all about?" Brass asked as he and Catherine stood in the motel door and watched Grissom walk away from Nick.

"There's this…well, I'm not really at liberty to say," Catherine stumbled for words. "It's really hard to explain when I'm not sure how Nick would feel about people knowing."

"That he has a relationship with Greg?" Brass suggested. Catherine turned to him, the look on her face unreadable. He offered a shy smile. "You guys often forget that I've been in Grissom's place. I know what to look for in people. The way the two of them have been playing off each other over the last few years and the way Nick has been acting during this whole event…" He shrugged.

"Keep it to yourself," Catherine warned him. "As far as I know Grissom is the only other person that knows. And I would have to say, from the looks of things, he's the only one that knows officially. You and I, we can't let it out to Nick. Not right now. The last person that needs to find out is Ecklie. He'll throw a fit if he learns about it and there's no telling what would happen to either Nick or Greg."

"He can't fire them," Brass said as he watched Nick head toward the vehicle Grissom had arrived in. The night shift supervisor stopped at the bottom of the stairs to observe Nick also.

"No, but he can split them up, keep them from seeing each other during work hours," explained Catherine. She headed back into the motel room. "If he kept Nick on nights and moved Greg to days they would hardly ever see each other. It would strain the relationship."

"True," Brass agreed. He followed her back inside. "But do you really think he would do it?"

"Yes," Grissom said as he walked into the room. Neither Brass nor Catherine was surprised that he knew what they were talking about. Grissom always seemed to know things without being told and over the years everyone around him had gotten used to it. "Ecklie's job is to make sure that the lab can serve its purpose without any problems. Having two of his workers dating would cause a conflict of interest and he would have to stop it. Simple as that."

Catherine grabbed a flashlight from her kit and headed back toward the bed. Something on the pillow had caught her attention before Grissom had shown up and she wanted to see if she could find it again. "How is he holding up?" she asked.

"If I've learned anything over the last few years it's that Nick is a fighter," Grissom stated as he headed for the bathroom. "He'll fight this."

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Meanwhile, across the city, Warrick walked into a casino with his kit in hand and looked around to find Sara. He'd been stuck at the lab with nothing to do unless another case came across the wire. When he'd gotten the call from Grissom that he was to join Sara he'd been helping one of the lab techs with their job so as to get the work done faster. Now he was standing in a fancy casino that he used to gamble in. Most of the floor had been cleared, gamblers pushed to the bar and other parts of the massive building. Cops swarmed everywhere, some getting statements about what had happened while others made sure that nobody left the building. As he wove through the machines on his way to see Sara he thought about the times he'd spent inside the noisy place back before he'd beaten his addiction. And it didn't slip past him the irony of working in a casino with Sara. A few years ago Grissom had sent her to investigate him because of something Ecklie had said. The man thought that Warrick had been using a day shift CSI to cover for him while he gambled on the job. The truth came out in the end that he was only being helpful.

He found Sara snapping photos of three bodies and raised his eyebrows. Before saying anything to her he had a look around the scene. The young man in the black and white suit would have been a worker for the casino. Perhaps a waiter or a blackjack dealer. The other two bodies looked like patrons, possibly vacationers judging by the style of dress. He placed his kit on the floor and sighed.

"This is going to be a long night," he said. "Three bodies and two of us…might I ask why Grissom ditched the scene?"

Sara set the camera down and turned back toward her kit, looking for something. "From what I understand he went to take Nick's place. You got the call about Greg, didn't you?" she suddenly asked. When Warrick nodded she continued. "My guess is that Nick is on his way to the hospital and Grissom is helping Catherine with her case. A dead body in a motel room doesn't seem nearly as interesting as three in a casino."

"How do three people die in a casino? There are tons of people around, too many witnesses," Warrick mused as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

Sara smiled. "Let's find out…"

--------------------------------------------------------------

Nick drove straight to the hospital from the crime scene. He wasn't entirely sure how he got there in one piece as he cried most of the way. His heart beat numbly in his chest as he pulled the vehicle into the parking lot and found at spot. A few minutes passed before he managed to compose himself enough to climb out of the SUV and head toward the hospital's entrance. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do or to say but he knew that he had to see Greg, even if only for a few seconds. He had to see with his own eyes that Greg was indeed okay. And maybe while he was at the hospital he would see if he could be a possible donor incase things got to the point that Greg needed a kidney transplant. He knew what the consequences would be of having only one good kidney but he didn't care. All that mattered to him was seeing Greg out of the hospital and back at home.

After a quick stop at the nurses' station he started down the hallway. As he walked his shoes made no sound on the tiled floor but he was sure that everyone he passed could hear his heart thudding in his chest. It felt like it was going to tear free from the confines of his chest. Rounding a corner he stopped, unsure of what he should do. Greg's parents were talking to the doctor outside the hospital room. He should have known that they would be here, it only made sense seeing as Greg was their only son. He wanted desperately to see Greg but didn't want to have to explain himself to Greg's parents. They knew of the friendship that their son had with Nick and seeing him wouldn't be much of a surprise. That knowledge didn't make his choice any easier. He could always turn around and return at a later time, hopefully when neither one of them were around. His heart wouldn't let him. He had to see Greg.

He took a tentative step forward and stopped again, fear making his heart beat faster. He wouldn't know what to say to them without giving away his feelings for Greg. It was hard enough to keep the relationship a secret at work but this was a time of crisis and he was an emotional wreck. They would know in an instant how he really felt about their son. Did he want to bother them with that on top of everything else? No, it wasn't fair to them. They had enough on their plates already. He sighed, turning to leave. But then he heard Greg's mom calling his name. Now he had no choice but to stay.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, I'm so sorry," he said, almost choking on the words. Mrs. Sanders rushed toward him, pulling him into an embrace. Her husband offered him a somewhat sad smile.

"I'm so glad that you're here," Mrs. Sanders said, stepping back, her right hand remained on Nick's arm. "Greg would be happy to know that you left work to see him."

"Is he…" Nick found that he couldn't get the words out. There was a miniscule glimmer of hope at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

Mrs. Sanders shook her head. "No, he's not conscious. The doctor said that he probably won't regain consciousness for at least another few hours. But you are here and that's what's really important." She leaned in, a smile in her sad eyes. "He told us, Nick. And I couldn't be happier for the two of you. He really deserves the love of someone as strong and as devoted as you. I'm proud to have you as part of the family."

Nick blushed. "Um, thanks. I wasn't aware that Greg had shared with anyone…We were going to keep it a secret for a while longer but now you guys know and so does Grissom. Guess it doesn't really matter who else finds out."

"Greg never could keep things from his mother for long," Mr. Sanders remarked. "I'll be honest, Nick, this was not the relationship that I saw for my son. But he's happy with you and that makes me happy."

"Thank you," Nick said, a temporary fog of relief washing over him. He was pleased to learn that Greg's parents accepted him, accepted the relationship. Now all he had to do was tell his parents, confess to them that their boy was indeed dating a man. Maybe he would do it when Greg got out of the hospital. They could take a trip to Texas to visit his family and come clean together. The idea made him feel even better and he started to feel less traumatized by the recent events. "Is it okay with you guys if I go in and speak with Greg…alone?"

"Of course, honey," Mrs. Sanders said, offering him a pleasant motherly smile. "After your visit how about we all go out for some coffee? My mother always told me that healthy people moping around the hospital did little to help the sick people in bed; just makes them feel bitter."

Nick agreed to join them for coffee even though he only wanted to spend time with Greg and then go home to his empty bed. Maybe spending a little time with Greg's parents would make him feel better. There was really only one way to find out. The door to the room closed quietly behind him. He stood still for a moment, letting his eyes take in all the wires and machines that were hooked to Greg's somewhat still form. Seeing Greg's pale skin brought all his troubles crashing back down to earth. He felt like crying all over again. Instead he walked over to the side of the bed and took Greg's hand in his. He recalled his last visit to the hospital, the conversation they had had, the words spoken.

"I still love you, Greg," he said. "Your parents are here and they…I wish I had known that you told them; would have made it a little less shocking. I…After talking to you the other night I thought things might return to normal, I thought you were getting better. I'm sure everyone in the lab noticed the change in my mood. And now…I just don't know, Greggo. This place, this city, the job, none of it is the same without you. I want to be with you, Greg. I want to be where you are. Being without you…it's like trying to live without oxygen. I need you here, Greg. I need you…"


	17. How Strong Are You Now

**Title: **Take Me There**

* * *

**

**Chapter Seventeen: How Strong Are You Now**

_Tell me how strong are you know, How strong are you now, What's that rule you live by, You say tough guys never cry but how strong are you now…_

Nick sipped his coffee then put the mug down, his hand wrapped around it. He momentarily thought about Catherine, fleetingly feeling guilty about leaving her behind at the scene. He couldn't help thinking about the body half submerged in the tub. Did the man have someone waiting for him back home? Was there a cop outside walking toward a cozy home in a suburban neighborhood preparing to tell a wife that her husband was dead? Would there be kids waiting in the upstairs bedrooms? He closed his eyes, letting his body relax. These were not thoughts he should be having. These thoughts, these emotions would consume him. As if on cue the cuts on his arm began to burn. Images of the sharp knife slicing through his skin flashed in his mind. He shuddered, wrapping his hands even tighter around the mug of warm, brown liquid.

They'd left the hospital little more than an hour ago and stopped at an all night diner. The coffee wasn't that great but according to Mrs. Sanders the apple pie more than made up for it. They talked about Greg, his accomplishments, his goals. Nick learned a few more things about Greg's childhood, things he hadn't previously known, things that Greg probably hadn't wanted him to know. The conversation was the sort people had when they were trying to remember a loved one who had passed away. The realization made Nick's heart ache. He was glad for the company that Greg's parents created but the way they spoke made it sound as though they had already given up on him. He felt his heart breaking, wondering if he was the only one that still had faith in Greg pulling through. The minute that thought passed through his mind he knew that it wasn't true. Greg's parents were still hopeful but they were doing what most parents would do in their situation, keeping hope alive by talking about their son. And the crew at the lab cared deeply about Greg. They were his second family and he meant a lot to them. Even though he knew all of that he couldn't help feeling like he was the only one that truly cared about Greg.

His Greggo.

He watched as Mr. and Mrs. Sanders got into their car. They were going back to their hotel for the rest of the night. He chose to remain behind at the coffee shop for a little while longer. He wanted the chance to think without being alone and the diner with its few patrons was the perfect place. He had to figure out how to get his life back in order. At the rate things were going he was going to end up without a job. Ecklie would let Grissom slide only so much before pushing for the truth or giving an ultimatum. What Nick had to decide was whether or not he even wanted his job anymore. Maybe back when he first started out it was what he really wanted to. After the injury that kept him from pursuing a career in football he'd joined the Dallas police force. His father, a judge, had been proud that his son opted for crime over sports, like Nick really had a choice in the matter. Three years after joining the force he transferred to Las Vegas and became part of the crime lab. The idea of helping people through science interested him, fascinated him. Little did he know that it was going to become his whole life. For the longest time he lived for his job. He looked up to Grissom, respected Catherine, flirted with Sara, palled around with Warrick and fell in love with Greg. His life was basically perfect. He had friends and love and he was making a difference in the world, what more could a man ask for?

But it wasn't all good.

He'd known that going in. At the age of nine he'd been shown just how cruel and unpredictable the world could be by a last minute babysitter. Over the years so many horrible things had happened to him and he had noticed a change in the others too. Grissom was no longer the witty and somewhat humorous scientist that he had once been. Something had caused him to retreat into himself losing that wittiness, changing him forever. He was still a great man, a great scientist but he'd changed so much. And Catherine, what could he say about her? She was a beautiful, strong woman that left behind a career as a dancer to find something better for herself and her daughter. How was she supposed to know that her ex would end up being such a jerk before he died or that her father was a lowlife casino owner that had frequent run-ins with the cops? Warrick had the shadow of a gambler looming over him every day and night. Ecklie never let him forget about it, always asking Grissom if it was a good idea to send Warrick to crime scenes at casinos. And though he didn't know the whole story behind Sara he did know that she'd had a troubled passed. He could tell from the way that she let things get a bit personal with cases. Something haunted her; something kept her awake at night. The job affected them, changed them.

Like it had Greg.

Nick had fallen in love with the quirky lab tech that hid porn in the lab and listened to Marilyn Mason while doing his job. Then Greg became one of them, working in the field. His attitude had changed. He didn't smile or laugh as much as he used to and there were days when he'd fall into dark moods. Nick still loved him. He understood what was happening. It had happened to them all. Working in the lab meant working with samples and machines. Working in the field presented the full affect of human cruelty; the dead bodies, the mutilated and hated. It was a cold reality.

He pulled a ten from his wallet and left it on the table, heading out of the diner into the refreshing night air. He loved how the desert could be so cold during the night while it was blistering hot during the day. He usually enjoyed the change in temperatures. The cooler weather appealed to him and that was one reason he'd chosen night shift. But now that he had an empty, lonely, cold bed waiting for him at home he wished that the nights were just as hot as the days.

----------------------------------------------------------

He threw his keys on the coffee table and left his shoes by the front door. He didn't even bother to turn on a light, his house dark. In a matter of hours the light of the sun would come streaming through the windows to chase away all the shadows, save for those that clouded his mind. On autopilot he headed toward the kitchen. He knew what he was going to do and he knew that it was wrong but he felt compelled to do it. Out of the drawer he pulled a knife, placing it on the counter top. He placed his hands on the counter, leaning forward, his head hanging down. Every fiber in his body told him to put the knife away, to put it back in the drawer and to get out of the house. But some unseen stronger force wanted him to do it. He could feel the tears streaming down his face. If he was this bad now…how bad would it get if Greg never got better? How would he cope in a world without Greg? He prayed that he would never have to find out.

Without waiting another moment he picked up the knife and placed it against the skin of his arm, pressing the blade down. With one swift motion he felt the blade pass over his skin, blood appearing under it. As soon as the skin parted the urge passed, leaving him regretting his actions. He knew that the cut wouldn't be fatal. Still, he left the knife on the counter and went back into the living room where he picked up the handset from his phone. He dialed Grissom. Even as he spoke the words didn't register and when he hung up the phone he couldn't remember having said anything. He let the phone fall from his hand, clattering on the floor, and closed his eyes.

When he next opened his eyes he found Grissom standing before him. He'd blacked out; that tiny piece of knowledge made a chill run down his spine. Grissom stood before him, hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Nicky, I thought we talked about this…"

"I'm sorry," Nick cried the tears still fresh in his eyes. "I just feel so hopeless…We finally got the guy that hurt Greg but nothing has changed. Greg isn't getting better and…" He choked up.

"And you think doing this to yourself would make him happy?" Grissom said, gesturing at Nick's arm. The flow of blood had just about stopped. "Nick, if you keep this up I'm going to have to remove you from your post. Warrick already knows what you're doing and it's only a matter of time before the others know. It's inevitable that Ecklie will learn. Nicky, please, stop doing this to yourself. The cuts, they don't do anything but make the pain go away for a few minutes. It always comes back."

"I know…"

"I want to know why, Nick. Can you at least tell me that?"

Nick was quiet for a few seconds well he thought about. Had Grissom asked him this same question before? What answer had he given him? He couldn't recall. "I…I'm not strong enough to beat this. I'm…I'm just not strong enough."

"You are strong, Nick. This is nothing more than a lapse. It'll pass," Grissom assured.

"How can you be so sure…"

Grissom didn't say anything. He went in search of the first aid kit that was under the bathroom sink. He came back with it a few minutes later and sat on the coffee table across from Nick. He took hold of Nick's arm, started treating it. After a few minutes, as he was placing a gauze pad on the cut, he said, "Promise me that you won't do this again, Nick. Promise me."

Nick wasn't really sure he could speak but he managed to choke out, "I promise."


	18. Here

**Title: **Take Me There**

* * *

**

**Chapter Eighteen: Here**

_There's a place I've been looking for, That took me in and out of buildings, Behind windows, walls and doors, And I thought I found it, Couple times, even settled down, And I'd hang around just long enough, to find my way back out, I know now that the place I was trying to reach, was you right here in front of me…_

"I'm beginning to think that Nick has the right idea," Sara said in exasperation. "I would like to lose it right about now."

Warrick frowned, looking angry. "What the hell are you talking about? Nick isn't losing his mind, Sara, and trust me; you do not want to be where he is."

"Are you kidding me?" Sara asked. "Here we are working like crazy on a triple homicide while Nick is living it up at home. Instead of dealing with pissed off people or the heartbroken he's camping out on his couch and watching daytime TV."

"Daytime TV isn't all it's cracked up to be," Warrick said as he studied one of the many photographs they had spread across the work surface. "And what makes you think that Nick is living the high life? You know as well as I do that he loves this job and that Greg is his best friend. I know that I miss having the goofy guy around. You can't tell me that you don't feel even the slightest bit miserable without Greg around."

Sara put down her magnifying glass. She didn't look at Warrick as she spoke. "When he worked in the lab he used to flirt with me. He once asked me out to dinner, you know. It was cute the way he would try to pry personal information out of me. But I never really gave him the chance to get close to me. Too hung up over Grissom. When he joined us in the field I figured that maybe we could at least become really good friends. Then that whole thing with those damned kids happened and he changed. We should have grown closer but I don't think we did…" She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. "I miss having him around, Warrick. I miss his wacky personality. Part of me wishes that he'd never left the lab and…"

Warrick walked around the table and drew Sara close in an embrace. She hugged him back, for once letting her emotions get the best of her. This was the first time either one of them could recall of her showing so much emotion while on the job. And though it surprised Sara, Warrick had been waiting for it to happen. He could tell from the way that she walked around that something had been bothering her. She needed to get it out. The last week or so had been stressful on all of them. The mayor and the sheriff were finally off their backs now that they had caught the serial killer, the man that put Greg in the hospital. But even as they continued to do their jobs like nothing was wrong there remained a cloud over them. It could be seen in the way that the cases they worked were affecting them and the sudden lack of joking that was going around. Not only were they worried about Greg but also very deeply concerned over Nick. Watching their friend falling apart…it made everything that much harder. There was a soft knock on the door. Warrick looked up to see Brass standing there looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"I was wondering if you guys had seen either Catherine or Grissom," he asked as Warrick and Sara stepped away from each other. "I just got a call from a woman that claims to have seen everything that happened at our motel crime scene; which would mean that it wasn't an accident or suicide."

Sara raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Grissom was actually contemplating the fact that it could have been either one of those?" Warrick was right there with her. Since when had Grissom made assumptions instead of following the evidence?

"Nothing is the same," Brass stated. "There is something weighing heavily on that man's mind. I watched him and Catherine at the crime scene," he said as he walked further into the room, "and he didn't really seem like Grissom. You could tell that he was only half focused on what he was doing."

"That's not like him at all," Warrick remarked, feeling more trouble now. How could he have noticed that something was wrong with Sara but not with Grissom? Easily, because he hadn't really seen in his boss the last few nights.

"What doesn't sound like whom?" Catherine asked as she joined their small party.

"Have you noticed anything different about Grissom?" Sara was bold enough to ask. "Brass was just saying that he seemed different at the crime scene the other night…"

Catherine sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Thank god someone else finally noticed. I thought maybe it was just my imagination or something." Brass shook his head. "You can't really blame him though. He's worried about Nick and Greg. We're understaffed right now so that's probably part of the problem, too."

"There's more to it than that," Brass said. "I've seen this before. He's feeling guilty about something."

This time Sara looked surprised. Usually she was the first one to know when something was wrong with Grissom. She'd been after him for years, having feelings for him that ran deep. Only now did she realize how much things had changed since Greg landed in the hospital. She hadn't even been aware that something was troubling the man that held the key to her heart. "I…don't take this wrong, but I don't believe that Grissom has ever felt guilty about anything. At least not in the sense that you and I would feel guilty. He finds ways to rationalize his so-called guilt and turn it into something else."

"Maybe we should confront him," Brass suggested.

"How? You came in here looking for him," Warrick reminded the homicide detective.

"I saw him headed toward his office," Catherine told them. "I was on my way to talk with him when I saw that Brass was in here with you guys. If we leave now we might be able to catch him before he pulls a vanishing act on us."

Nothing else was said as they silently mutually agreed to lay their cases aside for a few moments while they confronted their boss, their friend. As they headed down the hallway toward the office Grissom had called his own for the last few years Sara couldn't help but feel a bit more depressed than she had been. Crying on Warrick's shoulder had lessened her troubles until Brass brought up his concerns for Grissom. How much more was she going to have to endure? First she'd lost Greg, a man who always managed to make her smile. Then she felt Nick, her best friend, slipping through her fingers. Now she had to worry about the man she loved. Which one of them would be next, she wondered as she looked at her friends. Who would be the next one to crack under the stress and the worry? Would it be her? She closed her eyes for a second, letting out a deep sigh. Then felt the reassurance of Catherine's hand on her arm. She looked over at her friend and smiled, if somewhat sadly. Brass knocked on the doorframe of the office to announce their presence then walked in, the others following.

Grissom, who was sitting behind his desk, looked up at them. "Why are you all in my office? Are there not cases that you should be working on?"

"We came to confront you," Catherine said.

"Confront me?"

"What's wrong with you?" Brass asked. "And don't try to tell us that nothing is wrong because that would be a lie and you wouldn't honestly expect us to believe it. So come on, out with it. Why are you not acting like Grissom?"

The night shift supervisor removed his glasses, sighing. He'd known that it would only be a matter of time before one of them noticed and came to him. He never thought that they would all notice and come asking questions. But he learned a long time ago not to be taken by surprise when it came to this team, his friends. "I was there when he got shot," he started. "I had gone to talk to him about possibly removing him from the case and…Brass was there. For some reason I decided to approach the vehicle on the driver's side…" He found that he couldn't go on.

But there was no need for him to. Sara understood. They all did. "It wouldn't be Greg, it would be you…"

Grissom closed his eyes.

"How many times have you told us that we can't change the past, only help to make the future better?" Warrick said. "In some parallel universe you are the one in the hospital. But there are people out there that believe everything happens for a reason. We did what we could for Greg…"

"And he still needs us," Catherine said. "As does Nick. I think on some level we all feel guilty and we all wish it was us but that's not something we can change. All we can do is be there for them."

There was a moment of silence before Sara spoke. "Does anybody feel as useless as I do?"

Nobody said anything but there was no reason for words, they were all feeling the same way. They spent their nights trying to make the world a better place, trying to give grieving families some peace of mind. And now, when they needed it most, there was nobody there to do it for them. The lab, once a place of comfort, had become a constant reminder of how sudden life could change, how wrong it could go. They saw that every night but when it was one of their own things changed; it became more real. The person lying in the hospital bed wasn't some random person off the street with a name and a past they knew nothing about. It was Greg. And as much as they wanted to help him they knew that they couldn't. it was out of their hands.


	19. When the Sand Runs Out

**Title: **Take Me There**

* * *

**

**Chapter Nineteen: When The Sand Runs Out**

_I spent the morning at an old friend's grave, flowers and Amazing Grace, he was a good man. He spent his whole life spinnin' his wheels, never knowin' how the real thing feels. He never took a chance or the time to dance, And I stood there thinking as I said goodbye, Today is the first day of the rest of my life…_

10:36am

Sara pulled her car into a space close to the door of the small café. Whenever she got the chance she'd stop in after her shift ended. The place had the best vegan dishes in the city of Las Vegas and there was a budding friendship with the cook. He often offered to let her try the newest dishes before they were placed on the menu. As she closed the car door behind her she looked up at the café's name in stylized letters over the door. She couldn't recall how many times she had thought of inviting Grissom along. She always got close to asking but the words would die on her lips. What if he rejected her invitation? That would be more than enough conformation that he was interested in her the way that she was in him. And there was that chance he would say yes but not enjoy the food or the place. Vegan dishes weren't for everyone and though the café did have some non-vegan dishes, they were nothing special. Sighing, she headed for the door, pulling it open and holding it while an elderly couple walked out. They exchanged smiles even though Sara wasn't really in a smiling mood. She breezed into the air conditioned café to escape the already hot outside atmosphere.

She took her usual booth near one of the big windows. When she had first tried the place it had been the only seat available. Sitting in front of a big glass window while the sun was shining on the desert outside hadn't really appealed to her. But now it was the only place she cared to sit. It allowed her a chance to watch the city pass by outside, to study the people that came and went. It let her get her mind off work. The waitress swung by, they chatted politely after she'd written down Sara's order. The waitress wasn't aware that Sara had come across her picture while looking through the database of missing people. She should have said something to someone about finding the girl but judging by the light in her eyes there was nothing wrong with her life. Sara figured she'd run away from a bad situation and was finally happy on her own. As the waitress walked away to place her order Sara thought about her own past, about her father and her mother. She had thought of running away once or twice herself. The courage to do so wasn't there, though. The courage to do her job came later in her life.

While she waited for her meal she looked out the window, wondering what sort of things would haunt her dreams when she finally got home…

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10:48am

Warrick pulled the door open. The building was usually closed during the daylight hours, waiting until the later afternoon before opening for business. But the owner was a friend of his and he often stopped by when his shifted ended; especially when things got tough at work. The building was pretty deserted, the bartender the only other one around. Warrick smiled at him and the man smiled back as he continued to make sure things were in order. In a matter of hours the warmly lit club would have full tables and the bar would be standing room only. The music was what people came for and that's also what brought Warrick. He crossed the room to the small stage set up in the back corner and settled on the bench before the piano. He let his fingers rest lightly on the white keys, closing his eyes and letting the music come to him. It didn't matter to him what he played, the music always found a way to free him from the haunting images in his mind. On his nights off he would come down and play for the patrons. Music had become his answer to not gambling. It had taken him a long time to realize that his job was a gamble enough. Every night that he got out of bed could be his last but he kept doing his job because he knew that someone had to.

As he played, his eyes closed, he tried to think of happier things, happier times. He thought about the first time he met Nick and how he knew that they would be friends. He couldn't really say the same for Sara but it wasn't her fault that Grissom had chosen her to investigate him that one time. And there was Catherine. She confused him, made his heart flutter. There was something about her that lit a spark deep in his heart. For a while he thought that maybe something would start between them but either Catherine was ignoring her feelings for him or they weren't there to begin with. He didn't think of Greg. He didn't want to think of Greg.

He played, his fingers gliding over the keys with the skill of a professional. If he ever wanted to get out of the lab he could always try to pursue a career in music. But who would speak for the dead? He heard the sound of high-priced dressed shoes on the tiled floor and opened his eyes, his train of thought temporarily derailed. His friend smiled at him. "Bad day at the lab, Rick?"

"Don't even get me started," Warrick said, playing the last few notes of the song he couldn't name but knew by heart for some reason.

"Why don't you tell me about it over a drink," his friend kindly suggested.

Warrick knew the value of talking and getting out the worries before they pulled him down into their dark depths…

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11:15am

Catherine glanced at her watch as she walked toward the big building. There was no one around but that didn't worry her. In a few minutes it would be lunch time. She had plans that needed to be executed. Usually she would be home in bed by this time but for some reason she found she couldn't sleep. She didn't even feel tired. Instead she decided to repair a promise that she'd broken to someone that meant the world to her. She pulled open the door and walked into the air conditioned building. The office was to her right, a woman roughly her age sitting behind a counter.

Catherine smiled at her. "I'd like to remove Lindsay Willows from her class."

"May I ask as to what the nature of this is?" the lady asked.

"It's a family matter," Catherine answered quickly.

"I'll contact her teacher right away," the lady assured.

Catherine only had to wait twenty minutes before she saw her daughter walking toward the office with a baffled expression on her face. When she saw her mother that curiosity quickly turned into something more. Before her daughter could start asking questions Catherine ushered her out of the office and out into the bright daylight. She looked down at her daughter, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "I promised you a movie and dinner the other night that I was unable to deliver on. So what do you say to lunch and a movie instead?"

"There's nothing wrong, is there mom?" Lindsay asked.

"No," Catherine answered, wondering where her daughter's enthusiasm was. "Why do ask?"

"Well, you've never done this before…"

"Is it wrong that I want to spend time with someone I love?" Catherine inquired as they climbed into the car.

"No."

"Then I say we get out butts to that restaurant, pig out on hamburgers and greasy French fries, then head over to the theatre to see the new Joaquin Phoenix movie. What do you say?"

"Sounds better than math class," Lindsay said, finally smiling and showing some spirit.

"Good, today is all about us."

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11.30am

Brass looked at the bloody mess in the cell and shook his head. Things like this weren't supposed to happen. Not in his precinct. He looked at the uniformed officer standing to his right. "Do you want to explain this?" he gestured at the bloody mess before him.

The uniformed officer was nervous and rightly so. He swallowed before saying, "I…I heard a strange sound on my way back from the john so I came to investigate. I don't know where he got the piece of…whatever. I already called for the paramedics."

Brass looked at the body. "Where he is, paramedics can't help him."

"I'm sorry detective…"

"For what?" Brass asked, looking at the officer in genuine surprise. "This guy shot one of our own. I don't rightly care that he killed himself. I'm pretty sure the relatives of the other victims won't see it my way but as long as the bastard is no longer a part of this world, who cares? He never did anybody any good by being around. He didn't deserve to be part of this world."

The officer looked at Brass. "You don't think that's a little harsh?"

"CSI Sanders is my friend," Brass answered. "He's a brilliant young man and he doesn't deserve to be in the hospital…"

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11:42am

Grissom was still at the lab, still sitting in his office. By all rights he should have been gone hours ago but there was still work to be done and even though he could leave it for that night, he stayed to get it done. There were reports to go over, including the one that had been written up by Brass on the shooter and serial killer. Grissom left it at the bottom of his pile, looking over reports and tests results from the two active cases. Right now he didn't want to think about Greg. His friends had gotten the truth out of him. They knew his secret; that he was burning with guilt. He knew that what they said about being unable to change past events was true but he couldn't help it. If he had the chance to switch places with Greg he would, in a heart beat. The young scientist had so much potential, so much more that he could offer to the world. Grissom had made his contributions; he'd written his papers and taught his team to really look at the details. And then there was Nick. Grissom wondered if he would ever catch a break. How much more would the former jock be able to suffer before the world grew too dark? How long before the light went out?

He removed his glasses, placing them on his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He silently vowed to stop by the hospital when he finished with his paperwork. He looked down at the forms that lay on the desktop in front of him. His eyes strayed to the door of his office, wishing that someone, anyone, would walk intrude on his solidarity. But there was no knock, none of the people walking by in the hallway even bothered to glance in his direction. Sighing, he put his glasses back on and picked up the first report when there came the sound of something falling.

The picture that sat on the corner of his desk had fallen off. He frowned, getting up and walking around to pick it up. He glanced down at the photo, a picture of a happier time, and he knew. He couldn't explain how but he knew…

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12:01pm

Nick stood there, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands in fists, watching through the window. Tears streamed down his face as he silently prayed to whoever was willing to offer a helping hand. He couldn't feel his heart beating in his chest. He couldn't hear the sounds of the hospital around. His world revolved around the scenario playing out in the room in front of him. The phone on his hip started to vibrate to warn him of an incoming call but he was frozen in place by the grief that had taken hold. Nothing else in his life mattered for those few minutes as he slowly felt the ground beneath his feet crumbling.

He watched the doctor and the nurses pull back.

He lurched forward, banging his fists on the window of safety glass, crying out.

The doctor said something to those within the room.

And Nick slid to the floor as the ground beneath his feet finally gave 'way, his world coming to a screeching halt.


	20. Help Me Remember

**Title: **Take Me There**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty: Help Me Remember**

_Help me remember the way that we used to be, When nothing else mattered because you were loving me, Just for one night, one last time, one more good memory, when I look back that's what I wanna see, Oh help me remember…._

That's where Grissom found him five minutes later as he came charging down the hallway. The doctor had retreated to the nurses' station, a phone to his ear. Grissom crouched in front of Nick and looked into his tearful eyes knowing that the younger man was far out of his reach now. As he placed a hand on Nick's shoulder he closed his eyes. The others, he had to call the others and let them know what had happened. But only after he talked to the doctor in charge. He said something to Nick that didn't register with the broken man, then got up and headed for the doctor. He tried to keep his calm while talking to the medic in charge of Greg. He tried to get all the facts but even he was having a tough time dealing with things. In the back of his mind he knew that this had been a possibility, that the risk of it happening had been great. Maybe he'd been silently hoping that everything would work out in the end.

But he knew better than anyone what a crapshoot life was; his job showed him that day in and day out.

He looked down the hallway toward Nick who was still sitting on the floor, and with half a heart he started making the calls.

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They met on a desolate stretch of road in the desert, the sun low in the sky. The shadows of the cacti seemed to dance before their eyes as they grew in length with the setting sun. Grissom was the first one there. He'd managed to drag Nick out of the hospital but as he climbed out of the car he didn't bother to see if his friend would follow. He leaned against the closed driver's side door while waiting for the others to arrive. On his way out of the hospital he'd made a pit stop at the gift shop and the object that he'd bought was in the back of the company vehicle. This was a time when he didn't know what to say to anyone, when he didn't know how to act. Sara was fond of telling him that he needed to get in touch with his emotions more than once or twice a year so that he could understand why people acted the way they did. He needed to stop acting scientific and start acting more like a normal human would. He felt the slightest pinprick of tears but quickly wiped them away when he heard the sound of a car pulling up.

Catherine climbed out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind her. It sounded oddly loud out in the middle of nowhere. She walked toward Grissom. "What's the big news, Gris?" she asked, removing her sunglasses.

"I'd like to wait for everyone else to show up," he said trying to keep his voice from betraying the emotions that were stirring in his heart.

"All right…" Catherine answered. He could tell from the sound of her voice that she was leery and confused.

He decided to keep her talking. Maybe if he kept himself distracted he wouldn't give in to the feelings that were trying to take over. He had to be strong for his friends. They would need him, turn to him for guidance. So he asked Catherine how her day was with her daughter. The next fifteen minutes he listened as Catherine recounted her day, asking her about Lindsay when he felt it was relevant. Hearing the love and admiration in Catherine's voice when she spoke of her daughter made Grissom's chest ache. He looked away every few minutes to help keep his cool. How was he going to find the strength to break the news to all of them? As if hearing his thoughts he saw Brass's sedan pull up behind Catherine's car. To his surprise Warrick and Sara were with the homicide detective. He wondered how they could have possibly run into each other. None of them were scheduled to work that night. Some foreshadowing had prompted him to ask that they all get some time off and they deserved it with all the work they'd been doing. Now they were going to need that time more than ever.

Catherine, apparently having been thinking along the same lines as Grissom asked, "Do you guys spend your days off together or just happen to run into each other?"

"I found Sara poking around the lab," Brass answered. "And on the way here we saw Warrick walking out of a club so I offered to give him a ride. Now do you want to tell us the nature of this little meeting?"

"Are we out here to talk away from Ecklie's spies?" Sara asked, sounding very much like Greg.

Grissom looked out over the desert. What he had to say was going to break their hearts, leave them shattered and lost for a few days. He knew that they would eventually found firm ground to move on with their lives; it was their job. He closed his eyes to help collect his thoughts.

"Nick?"

Sara's voice broke into his fog of thoughts and he looked back toward the dark blue sports utility vehicle. Nick had finally come out of the car and was standing near the rear bumper, his arms crossed over his chest; a defensive mechanism. His eyes were red from all the crying and it would have been clear to a blind man that Nick was truly suffering.

"Oh no…" This time Sara's voice was little more than a whisper as it finally dawned on her why they were all there. Grissom hadn't even said anything but already tears started to fall from her eyes.

His shoulders slumping ever so slightly, Grissom looked at his friends as they looked to him for an explanation. "Greg passed away," he said with a shaky voice. "They pronounced it at twelve-o-five this afternoon."

"But he was doing so well," Warrick protested.

"His kidneys failed," Grissom said, shrugging, tears forming in his eyes. "He went into renal failure. The shock took a toll on his heart...and they tried to bring him back but…"

"No," Sara cried out as she ran to Nick, throwing her arms around him. Warrick stepped up beside Catherine and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they both stood there, the tears flowing freely. Even Brass and Grissom had given into the emotions that welled up in their hearts. Greg had been a part of their family, a special part and there would never be a way to replace the hole he left in their hearts. They would all miss the jokes, the smile, the witty sense of humor that Greg brought to his job. But only Grissom was acutely aware of how much Nick was going to miss.

There was anger in Catherine's voice when she spoke. "This means the judge has more fuel for the fire. That man will never get out of jail."

"You got that right," Brass said, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand. "He managed to commit suicide earlier today. I would have told you guys but I've been tied up in paperwork and shit."

"At least he's gone," Warrick remarked. "If he wasn't there's a chance I'd be relieved of my duties for what I would do to him. Cop killers don't deserve to live."

Catherine, leaning into the comfort that Warrick offered, said, "Why are we out here, Grissom? Shouldn't we be back at the lab letting everyone there know about it? I mean…this just seems weird."

"This is where it happened," replied Brass somewhat quietly.

Grissom nodded. "Ecklie has been informed and is handling things back at the lab." He went to the back of the SUV and opened the hatch. He pulled out a wreath of white flowers attached to a stand. "This is the…this is where I last spoke to Greg. I know that people leave crosses at the side of the road when someone dies in a car accident but…a cross didn't seem right…he still deserves something." Grissom walked into the desert, the sand and gravel crunching under his shoes, and placed the wreath before an impressive looking cactus. He took a step back.

They others came up behind him. Usually people would take the opportunity to say nice things about the departed, maybe talk about happier times but none of them knew what to say. They were lost to the grief they felt for their beloved friend. The next few days would be spent trying to understand why things had turned out the way they had. There would be a cloud hanging over the lab, a constant reminder of Greg and their sorrow. And while they mourned his passing Grissom worried about the living, not the deceased. Greg was beyond his help now but Nick wasn't and the poor scientist was going to need him.

Nick fell to the ground, the gravel biting into his knees. "It's not supposed to go like this…" he choked out. "He's not supposed to die."


	21. It's Not Supposed to go Like That

**Title: **Take me There**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-one: It's not Supposed to go Like That**

_It's not supposed to go like that, It's not supposed to end that way, Life is a journey constantly turning, Down an unknown path, But it's not supposed to go like that. I wonder if guardian angels cry, when they see it all played out, and as they stand with their hands tied, oh do they cry out loud…_

Nick closed his eyes. This time no tears fell, there were none left. He thought back over the last few days; saw his friends trying to do their jobs like they would normally. They found a way to deal with the grief by pouring it into their work. In the last three days alone they had been able to close two active cases and solve a ten-year-old cold case. They were moving on with life like people did after a personal catastrophe. Even the lab was functioning without Greg, though they had chosen to honor his memory by naming a room after him; the one he spent most of his time in. All the lab techs would talk about him like he was a legend and in some rights he was. Ecklie hadn't been seen during the night shift and rumor had it that he didn't know what to say to them so he avoided them. None of them cared because the last thing they wanted to deal with was Ecklie. They were all moving on, getting on with their lives.

But he wasn't.

He couldn't get past the loss, over the pain. Every day he woke up to the same numbing pain in his chest and he would look at the other side of his bed hoping that the whole thing had been a terrible nightmare. But he would see the undisturbed pillow and it would all come rushing back to him, the mix of good memories and bad. One minute he would see Greg lying there smiling at him, a sparkle in his eye. The next he would see him lying in the hospital with all the tubes and wires. He would fall apart all over again. It got to the point that he couldn't function day to day anymore. He was on leave from the crime lab. His friends made sure to call him nearly every hour to make sure that he was okay but he felt isolated, alone in his grief. Most of the time he remained in bed for hours, the drapes drawn, the covers pulled up. Earlier that very day he had gotten out of bed to shower only to end up collapsing in a fit of tears as the warm water brought back memories of Greg's touch. For an hour he had let his tears mingle with the cascading water, washing his sorrow down the drain with the broken pieces of his heart.

That's when the idea had come to him.

Life had never been that kind to him to begin with and he had been fine with it. But then he fell in love Greg. His world turned around, he had a reason to smile, to get up every day. He had been shown what it meant to be in love only to have that love cruelly torn from his grasp. It had been hard enough for him to live without Greg while he was in the hospital; how was he supposed to live out the rest of his life haunted by the memories of what had been and what they could have become? Seeing the obituary in the afternoon edition of the paper had been the last nail in his coffin. He read and reread the little passing article about the man that meant the world to him, and though he was mentioned the world would never know how much Greg changed his life.

And now he sat on the couch in his darkened living room, the paper folded open to the obituaries page, a grayscale picture of Greg looking back at him. The smile was cold, the eyes empty. The pictures offered memories of happier times, emotions that he'd never feel again. He looked at the gun on the table beside the paper. How many stories had he heard about officers eating their guns? He didn't have the strength for it, didn't think he place the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. As broken as his heart was he didn't think he could do it…

---------------------------------------------------------

Grissom slide the folder in between two others before closing the drawer. Another case solved, another family that got the justice they deserved. He let his hand linger on the filing cabinet for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room. As he walked down the hallway, his hands in his pockets, he thought about how much the lab had changed his life. There were days when he would wonder if any of it had been worth it, if he was making a difference in the lives of those left behind. The answer was always the same; given the chance in another life he would walk the same path. Sure there were a few things that he would do differently, like tapping into his emotions more often so that he could stay connected with the world around him. Why, after all these years, did it take losing Greg to show him how unpredictable life was? Every night he saw the same thing, the departure of lives taken too early, but it took losing someone he loved to really bring it home.

He saw Warrick talking with Hodges in one of the labs. He knew that Sara was in the AV lab going over video tape in hopes of catching a glimpse of a suspect in a robbery turned double murder. The place had changed greatly since Greg left and with Nick out on leave the lab seemed too big and empty; even with all the people within the vicinity at any given time. No number of people could replace the personality, the very essence that had been Greg. And while they tried to go on with their lives there remained a sadness in the air, an ever present reminder of the friend they had been lost too soon. Grissom rounded the corner toward his office and nearly ran into Catherine. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes.

"Grissom, I was looking for you," she said. "I thought I'd find you in your office."

"I went to put away a file. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Sara and Warrick and I have decided that we want to pay Nick a visit when shift is over," she said with a ghost of a smile. "The place seems too empty without him here. Do you want to join us for breakfast? Go brighten the spirits of a friend?"

Grissom smiled. "Sure, sounds like a nice idea. I was just thinking about him…" he said as he started for his office once again.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked him, following him a step behind. "I know that he loved Greg…"

"He's going to need time," Grissom remarked, pushing open the door to his office. He frowned at the sight of the picture lying on the floor. But seeing it resting face-down didn't surprise him. He bent down to pick it up.

"That wasn't like that when I left," mused Catherine.

"It's been falling off my desk the last few days," Grissom said as his fingers grasped the frame. "I don't know why either." As he shifted the frame he heard the familiar tinkle of broken glass. His heart skipped a beat. For the first time the picture had fallen hard enough to shatter the glass, leaving shards on the floor of his office. Catherine didn't say anything as he looked over the picture of Greg and Nick, taken the night that Greg had passed his field test. An overwhelming sense passed over him and like before he knew. Without explanation he knew that something was wrong. The glass had never broken before. Now it was shattered. He looked over his shoulder at Catherine, his heart racing. "I have to go. I have to check on Nick."

He thrust the picture into her hands and headed out the door. "Grissom," she called after him. "Griss, what's wrong?"

"Call nine-one-one," he yelled back over his shoulder. "Have them send an ambulance to Nick's house. I have a feeling they'll be needed."

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Grissom banged on the door but there was no reply. He tried the handle only to find that it was locked. In the distance he could hear the whine of the sirens belonging to the ambulance he'd requested. Silently he thanked Catherine for listening to him. Then he tried the door again, this time throwing his shoulder into it. At first the door didn't budge but he refused to give up, yelling for Nick while he tried again. After the third time the wood around the lock splintered and the door swung open. He stumbled into the darkened house and was instantly hit with the coppery smell of blood. He could feel the frantic hammering of his heart in his chest as he fumbled around for a light switch. The sirens had drawn closer, maybe less than ten minutes away. He finally found the light switch, flicked it on.

All his fears were confirmed.

"Oh Nickie," he said, rushing across the living room toward his friend. "No…"

Nick sat with his back against the wall, his legs out in front of him, the gun resting on the floor to his right. His eyes were closed, blood running down both arms. Grissom fell to the floor beside him and shoved the gun away. He watched Nick's chest rise and fall ever so faintly while he felt for a pulse. It was there but it was weak. He looked around trying to find the knife that Nick had used but didn't see it anywhere. So caught up in what was happening around him, he wasn't even aware that he was crying, the tears sliding down his cheeks.

He patted Nick's cheek. "Wake up, Nickie. Please, you have to wake up."

Nick's eyes fluttered open. "Grissom…"

"Why, Nick, why?" he asked as he heard the scream of the siren right outside the house. "Why?"

"I wasn't strong enough," Nick replied his voice little more than a whisper.

"You're wrong," Grissom stated firmly. "You are strong, Nick. You're stronger than the rest of us. Hang on, please; help is right outside the door."

"I'm sorry," Nick said as his eyes fluttered shut and he took a shaky breath.

"Nick…"

"I just want to hold him again…"


End file.
